@3And I never hear the drums beat that I do not think of him.@1 -- MAJOR CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN TURN through his life, each word and deed Now sacred as it is -- How helped and soothed we are to read A history like his! To turn the years, in far review, And find him -- as To-day -- In orchard-lands of bloom and dew Again a boy at play: The jeweled grass -- the sumptuous trees And flower and fragrance there, With song of birds and drone of bees And Spring-time everywhere: Turn any chapter that we will, Read any page, in sooth, We find his glad heart owning still The freshness of his youth. With such a heart of tender care He loved his own, and thus His home was, to the loved ones there, A temple glorious. And, ever youthful, still his love Enshrined, all manifold, The people -- all the poor thereof, The helpless and the old. And little children -- Ah! to them His love was as the sun Wrought in a magic diadem That crowned them, every one. And ever young his reverence for The laws: like morning-dew He shone as counsel, orator, And clear logician, too. And, as a boy, his gallant soul Made answer to the trill Of battle-trumpet and the roll Of drums that echo still: His comrades -- as his country, dear -- They knew, and ever knew That buoyant, boyish love, sincere As truth itself is true: He marched with them, in tireless tramp -- Laughed, cheered and lifted up The battle-chorus, and in camp Shared blanket, pipe and cup. His comrades! . . . When you meet again, In anguish though you bow, Remember how he loved you then, And how he loves you @3now@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UTOPIA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER UNDER A TELEPHONE POLE by CARL SANDBURG MY HEART IS HEAVY by SARA TEASDALE BALLAD OF THE GIBBET by FRANCOIS VILLON LAUSANNE: IN GIBBON'S OLD GARDEN by THOMAS HARDY ECHOES: 35. MARGARITAE SORORI by WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY |