A Shropshire Lad/The street sounds to the soldiers' tread

by Alfred Edward Housman

XXII

The street sounds to the soldiers' tread,And out we troop to see:A single redcoat turns his head,He turns and looks at me.

My man, from sky to sky's so far,We never crossed before;Such leagues apart the world's ends are,We're like to meet no more;

What thoughts at heart have you and IWe cannot stop to tell;But dead or living, drunk or dry,Soldier, I wish you well.

 

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