I have tramped tired and dusty to a tune
Of singing voices tired as I, but scorning
To yield up gaiety to sweltering June.
O comrades marching under blazing noon
Who told me tales in taverns near and far,
And sang and slept with me beneath the moon;
Because of you I love the name of War.
But you most dear companions Life and Death,
Whose friendship I had never valued well
Until that Battle blew with fiery breath