POETRY.
THE UNSUNG.
WHO sings of the soldier?
Of the chieftain whose shoulders bear the weight Of an army's weal, of an Empire's fate, Of the half-starved marcher in heat and wet, Of the cheery lord of the bayonet, Of the sabreur blind to uncountable odds, Of the gunner serving his grim-mouthed gods, Of the curled darling whose scented breath Hurls a jibe in the teeth of Death ?
Every one sings of the soldier!
Who sings of the sailor?
Of the reckless, rollicking, roaring blade, Handicraftsman of every trade, Wooer of danger for danger's sake, Gayest when landsmen blanch and quake, Readiest toiler in dolefulest day, Simplest wanton in hard-earned play, Thriftless, unstable rogue, if you will, But chiefest of popular idols still.
Every one sings of the sailor I (Laureate bard in orthodox way, Local truer of spineless lay, Music-hall star and guttersnipe, Sociable souls over bowl and pipe, Boudoir warbler and alehouse lout, Sing and recite, and scribble and shout, Praises of soldier and sailor!) Who sings of the farmer ?
Grand old player of uphill game, Spurred by no prize of wealth or fame : Game which calls for a soldier's will, Game which demands a sailor's skill ; Single-handed facer of woes, Deeper than buffets by human foes; Wager of ceaseless, stubborn fight, All the year, every year, day and night ; With ill-timed drought and drench and cold, With the wasted crop and the stricken fold, With prospects of plenty rudely nipped, With the garden bared and the orchard stripped; Disappointed and sick at heart, Weary of playing a victim's part, Weary of promises unfulfilled, Of shattered plans and of projects killed; Still he plays on ; still day by day Girds himself bravely to the fray, Pays up the loss and takes the blow, Grimly smiles at each overthrow ; Hopes against hope, to the creed he clings, End must come to the worst of things ; So the years pass. Then the Final Call Bows the brave head, and back to the wall, Facing his world of sorrow, not shame.
The grand old player yields the game !
Yet—Nobody sings of the farmer!
H. F. ABELL.
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