Classic Poem

Where the dull wheels jar and jostle,
And the tramways ring and roar,
Here, like some town-prisoned throstle,
I have drifted to your door.
Like a bird I wait your giving,
Like a bird I wait not long,
Song and flight must yield a living
To a life of flight and song!

Yes, the blue cap, rent and ragged,
Hardly holds the pennies now;
There in front, that hole so jagged,
Mates a sword-cut on my brow.
No more war for me! I gladly
Limp along or stiffly sit,
While the leg I need so badly
Helps to fill a rifle-pit.

As the echoes climb like lovers,
Tremble o'er the city's din,
And my song, a lost bird, hovers
At your window, enters in.
Gentle people, while I linger,
And my cadences entreat,
Give me, like a feathered singer,
Bread, for singers fain must eat.

Bread or pennies, e'en a blossom,
So 'tis thrown with feelings warm,
I will catch as did my bosom
Bullets in the battle-storm.
Only let the song I send you
Find you heed a soldier's lay —
Thanks, good lady, God attend you,
You have brightened all my day!

Ah, good people, to what other
Shall I sing the same old song,
Begging pity for a brother
Maimed in life's remorseless throng?
Shall I tell my heart is longing
For a music grand and new,
Where the soldier hosts are thronging
To their Captain's grand review?