"Did you bear arms yourself, and fight and live
To honor those who fought and died?" "Oh no,"
The old man said, "too young for that war, old
For this; the wars have passed me by." "Then have
You friends or kin who died?" the young man pressed,
"A father, brother, son?" "My father's dead,
My brother too, but never one in war,"
Came his reply. "Then why," the young one asked,
"Do you, who've neither fought, nor comrades lost,
Nor kin, nor friend, lay flowers here? Pray tell
Me now; I listen." Then the old man stood
And stared, through tear-filled eyes, upon the fair
And unlined face of Youth itself before
Him: strong the limbs, and deep the chest; clear skin;
The shoulders broad. At length he said "One day
You'll know; one day you'll see, or maybe if
Some spirit blesses you, you never will."
With that the old man turned, and leaning on
His cane, walked off into the cold grey dawn.
The young man watched him go, and smiling picked
His rifle up, and vanished