Envy

It's a bigger thing you're doing than the most of us have done;

We have lived the days of pleasure; now the gray days have begun,

And upon your manly shoulders fall the burdens of the strife;

Yours must be the sacrifices of the trial time of life.

Oh, I do n't know how to say it, but I'll never think of you

Without wishing I were sharing in the work you have to do.

I have never known a moment that was fraught with real care,

Save the hurts and griefs of sorrow that all mortals have to bear;

With the gay and smiling marchers I have tramped on pleasant ways,

And have paid with feeble service for the gladness of my days.

But to you has come a summons, yours are days of sacrifice,

And for all life has of sweetness you must pay a bitter price.

Men have fought and died before me, men must fight and die to-day,

I have merely taken pleasures for which others had to pay;

I have been a man of laughter, there's no path my feet have made,

I have merely been a marcher in life's gaudy dress parade.

But you wear the garb of service, you have splendid deeds to do,

You shall sound the depths of manhood, and my boy, I envy you.