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At The Parade

I cannot flap a flag
         Or beat a drum;
Behind the mob I lag
         With larynx dumb;
Alas! I fear I'm not
         A Patriot.

With acrid eyes I see
         The soul of things;
And equal unto me
         Are cooks and kings;
I would not cross the street
         A duke to meet.

Oh curse me for a fool
         To be so proud;
To stand so still and cool
         Amid the crowd.
For President or Peer
         God, let me cheer!

But no, despite the glee
         My heart is cold;
I think that it may be
         Because I'm old;
I'm dumb where millions yell . . .
         Oh what the hell!

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Comments

  • Nam
    April 8, 2004
    Edit | Reply
    One of his jestful pieces. Tho, I feel somewhat all of his pieces have jest and humor in them. Even those that probably shouldn't.

    A good piece by Service, yes, a good piece indeed.