The Days March

The battery grides and jingles,

Mile succeeds to mile;

Shaking the noonday

The guns lunge out awhile,

And then are still awhile.

We amble along the highway;

The reeking, powdery

Ascends and cakes our

With a striped, sweaty crust.

Under the still sky's

The heat throbs on the air….

The white road's dusty

Assumes a dark glare.

With a head hot and heavy,

And eyes that cannot rest,

And a black heart

In a stifled breast,

I sit in the saddle,

I feel the road unroll,

And keep my senses

Toward to-morrow's goal.

There, over unknown

Which we must reach at last,

Day and night thundersA black and chilly blast.

Heads forget heaviness,

Hearts forget spleen,

For by that mighty

Being is blown clean.

Light in the eyes again,

Strength in the hand,

A spirit dares, dies, forgives,

And can understand!

And, best!

Love comes back

After grief and shame,

And along the wind of

Throws a clean flame.

The battery grides and jingles,

Mile succeeds to mile;

Suddenly battering the

The guns burst out awhile….

I lift my head and smile.

Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий