men

And trains all night groan on the rail

To men that die at morn.

Oh, God will save her, fear you not:

Be you the men you've been,

I too survey that endless line

Of men whose thoughts are not as mine.

Years, ere you stood up from rest,

'Tis little enough they leave.

Then keep your heart for men like me

And safe from trustless chaps.

For oh, the sons we get

Are still the sons of men.

The sumless tale of sorrow

"I will go where I am wanted, where there's room for one or two,

And the men are none too many for the work there is to do;

Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick;

To-morrow after new young men

The sergeant he must see,

For round me the men will be lying

That learned me the way to behave.