The Junior Subaltern will give an exhibition of stunt saluting.
TO MY DRESS SUIT.
Old friend, well met! I've longed for this reunion;
You've been the lodestar of this storm-tossed ship
In those long hours which poets call Communion
With one's own Soul, and common folk the Pip.
The foe might rage, the Brigadier might bluster.
Was I down-hearted? No! My spirit soared
And dreamt of you and me with blended lustre