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Title: That Uniform
Author: W. E. Christian [
More Titles by Christian]
Tis strange, but yet 'tis true, we see
Sane men who seem to think that we,
Who wear the blue, are not the same
As other men. We have a name
Scarce thought of with respect; 'tis used
To frighten children, and abused
By those who only wish to show
A few of the many things they don't know.
We read "the soldiers came to town
And raised particular ----," and so on down
A column or more of such vile stuff;
'Twould make us all cry "Hold! Enough!"
You see, there's scarcely anything
To write about. While these things sting,
What's that to us? We may lose by it;
But the public's fed, ye gods, the diet.
An old saw, which, perhaps, e'en you
Have heard, and some thought true,
Seems to have been forgotten, quite,
Or else we do not think it right.
Our fathers used to think that way,
But we are wiser (?) in our day.
Try to remember it, if you can,
Tis this: "The clothes don't make the man."
Don't turn the soldier down. You may,
For aught you know, or others say,
Be entertaining, unawares,
An angel; and, if not, who cares?
For, be he good, bad, weak or strong,
'Mid summer's sun or winter's storm,
You call on him to right your wrong,
Altho he wears a uniform.
[The end]
W. E. Christian's poem: That Uniform
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