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XXII. "The street sounds to the soldiers' tread..."
by A. E. Housman (1859-1936)

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

 

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