WHEN EAST IS WEST
See that man in khaki clothes,
Squirming in the dust;
Toying with a sketching board,
Uniform all mussed.
Squinting 'long a little stick,
Grunting fit to bust—
Turning out a road sketch
For his Captain.
First he drills a "starting point."
Then he takes a "shot;"
Someone's scare-crow gets a line,
Closes Jones's lot.
Paces stiffly down the road,
Worried—tense—and hot—
Turning out a road sketch
For his Captain.
Now an "intersection point;"
Watch the compass turn.
Think to see him finger it
Bloomin' thing would burn.
Missed an inch by motor truck;
Eyes it proud and stern—
Turning out a road sketch
For his Captain.
Plants an orchard in the road;
Leaves a forest bare.
Runs a railroad through a house;
Fakes a village square.
Twenty contours in a swamp,
Thirteen in the air—
Calls the thing a road sketch
For his Captain.
TO MY SWEETHEART
I love you when the bugle
Calls, "Awake, the day's begun!"
I love you as we work and
Sweat and drill beneath the sun.
I love you at retreat, and
When the sun sinks out of view;
Sweetheart of mine! quite all the time,
I—love—you.