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1892–1953

VIII. THE FAREWELL

Edward Shanks

Farewell to rising early, now comes the lying late, And long on the parade-ground my company shall wait Before I come to join it on mornings cold and dark And no more shall I lead it across the rimy park.

The men shall still manoeuvre in sunshine and in rain And still they'll make the blunders I shall not check again; They'll march upon the highway in weather foul and fair And talk and sing with laughter and I shall not be there.

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VIII. THE FAREWELL · Edward Shanks · Poetry Cove