If this be sacrilege, pardon me, pray;
But a robe such as angels wear
Seemed his old red shirt with its smears of dirt,
And a halo his mop of hair;
And never a knight in a tournament
Rode lists with a jauntier mien
Than he of the drive who came alive
Through the hell of the “Hulling Ma-
chine.”
He dragged me aboard with a giant swing,