Over Here eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 117 pages of information about Over Here.

Over Here eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 117 pages of information about Over Here.
I silently noticed that young fellow wait
At each officer’s side ’til he’d filled up his plate;
I was startled a bit at the very first look
By the size of the helping each officer took,
And I thought as I sat there among them that night
Of the army’s effect on a man’s appetite.

    The waiter at last brought the platter to me
    And modestly proper I started to be. 
    A small piece of meat then I gracefully took;
    The young fellow stood there and gave me a look. 
    “Better get all you want,” he remarked to me then,
    “I pass this way once, but I don’t come again.”

I turned in amazement.  He nodded his head
In a way that convinced me he meant what he said. 
I knew from his manner and smile on his lip
That the rule in the army is “no second trip.” 
And I thought as he left me my food to attack,
Life gives us one chance, but it never comes back.

         The Complacent Slacker

When he was just a lad in school,
He used to sit around and fool
And watch the clock and say: 
“I can’t see that I’ll ever need
This stuff the teacher makes me read,
I’ll work no more to-day. 
And anyhow it’s almost June
And school days will be over soon.”

    One time we played a baseball game,
    And when a chance for stealing came,
      On second base he stood,
    And when we asked him why, he said: 
    “What was the use, they’re far ahead,
      One run would do no good. 
    The game is almost over now,
    We couldn’t win it anyhow.”

    The same old slacker still is he,
    With men at war on land and sea,
      And our lads plunging in it;
    He spreads afar his old excuse. 
    “I’d like to help, but what’s the use,
      The Allied troops will win it. 
    There’s nothing now to make us fret, there,
    They’ll have it won before we get there.”

    The worst of slackers is the man
    Who will not help whene’er he can,
      But plays the idle rover,
    And tells to all beset with doubt
    There’s naught to be alarmed about,
      The storm will soon be over. 
    Let no such dangerous person lead us,
    To-day in France they sadly need us.

         A Christmas Greeting

Here’s to you, little mother,
With your boy so far away;
May the joy of service smother
All your grief this Christmas day;
May the magic of his splendor
Thrill your spirit through and through
And may all that’s fine and tender
Make a smiling day for you.

    May you never know the sadness
      That from day to day you dread;
    May you never find but gladness
      In the Flag that’s overhead;
    May the good God watch above him
      As he stands to duty stern,
    And at last to all who love him
      May he have a safe return.

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Over Here from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.