quick to sympathise with the underdog and indignant with those who oppressed the poor. Withal, he had a delightful sense of humour, and it plays freely through the letters from the front in which he makes light of discomforts and danger and is charmed by the kindness of his French hosts and the affection that springs up betwixt him and their children; and a letter from a Horse Guards trooper tells you with what ardour and heroism he went at last to his death at the head of his men.
Here is what you learn of his personality from his poems. Not only in 'Half Time' does he pull up to look into the heart of things and give them their real value:
Warrior, cease your fight awhile,
Look upon the heap of spoil.
Are these things so greatly blessed
That you ever upward pile?
Always onward you have pressed,
But you soon must seek your rest.
Are these things worth while?
As for what he feels to be worth while—
