Classic Poem

At Varennes also Gloucester men had their stay.
(Infantry again, of my soft job getting tired.)
Saw wonderful things of full day and of half-day:
Black pattern of twigs against the sunset dim fired;
Stars like quick inspirations of God in the seven o'clock sky.
Where the infantry drilled frozen—all all-foolishly
As on the Plain—but to the canteen went I,
Got there by high favour, having run, finished third,
In a mile race from Varennes to the next village end.
Canteen assistant, with a special care for B Company—
And biscuits hidden for favour in a manner forbidden.
Lying about chocolate to C Company hammering the gate.
Pitying them for their parade all the morning through
(Blue to the fingers, to all but the conscience blue)
Uselessly doing fatheaded things eternally.
But keeping (as was natural) Six Platoon ever in mind.

And one evening, drowsed by the wood fire I got lost in the
Blaze of warm embers, green wood smoking annoyingly;
Watched deep till my soul in the magic was rapt asleep:
Grew to power of music, and all poetries, so, uncared,
Became a maker among soldiers—dear comrades;
Which is the hardest of all wide earth's many trades;
And so proved my birthright, in a minute of warm aired
Staring into the woodfire's poetic heart, lost a tide deep.
(Until the anger of fire caught all, all in rose or gold was lost.)