Veteran and Recruit
Edward Wentworth Hazewell (1853- ?), American poet

He filled the crystal goblet
With golden-beaded wine:
"Come, comrades, now, I bid ye –
'To the true love of mine!'

"Her forehead's pure and holy,
Her hair is tangled gold,
Her heart to me so tender,
To others' love is cold.

"So drain your glasses empty
And fill me another yet;
Two glasses at least for the dearest
And sweetest girl, Lisette."

Up rose a grizzled sergeant –
"My true love I give thee,
Three true loves blent in one love,
A soldier's trinity.

"Here's to the flag we follow,
Here's to the land we serve,
And here's to holy honor
That doth the two preserve."

Then rose they up around him,
And raised their eyes above,
And drank in solemn silence
Unto the sergeant's love.

from The World's Best Poetry Vol. VIII: National Spirit (1904)

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