Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/178

But with strength came happier feelings, and soon my soldier’s heart beat high,
When I heard I was promoted, and a medal graced my breast.
Still the war raged on unending, many a comrade saw I die,
While I rose and rose in station, with more medals on my breast.

And their letters came so seldom, telling of their homely pastimes;
Of the endless toil and trouble that weigh down the peasant heart,
That it struck me with strange new wonder, like some old forgotten chime
Wafted to us in our labor from the far-off ancient mart.

And the years passed on so quickly ’neath the tender southern sunlight,
I forgot to count how many since I saw my native land;
And the past seemed strange and dreary dim and unreal to my sight,
When I paused to watch the peasants cutting vines with skillful hand.

True, they wrote to me in longing, begging I would come and see them,
Saying they were old and weary, and would see their soldier boy,
But there always came a reason why I could not go and see them,
Could not clasp them to my bosom in the rapture of my joy.

So the years pass’d, I rose higher until a general’s rank was mine,
Then I asked to be permitted to send in my own discharge,
Pleading that my health was too feeble to serve longer in the line,
Pleading I had wounds in plenty, and now longed to be discharged.