William Down Lighthall
THE YOUNG VETERAN
T HE boyheart of the soldier!
The friendgrip of his hand!
They warm me like no other
In all our hearty land.
His childlove of his mother
Illumining his strength!
There is no picture fairer
In any journey's length.
His Knightsoul eyes that rode him
Straight into the Crusade!
I know no sunlight clearer
Than those eyes unafraid.
The manglance of the battle,
How terrible to Wrong!
What promise to our country
Rings in his victory song!
The Godsoul in his being
That triumphed over death,
Bringeth the holy Temple
Where'er he wandereth.
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