The Soldier on Crutches

He came down the stairs on the laughter-filled grill

Where patriots were eating and drinking their fill,

The tap of his crutch on the marble of white

Caught my ear as I sat all alone there that night.

I turned — and a soldier my eyes fell upon,

He had fought for his country, and one leg was gone!

As he entered a silence fell over the place;

Every eye in the room was turned up to his face.

His head was up high and his eyes seemed aflame

With a wonderful light, and he laughed as he came.

He was young — not yet thirty — yet never he made

One sign of regret for the price he had paid.

One moment before this young soldier came in

I had caught bits of speech in the clatter and din

From the fine men about me in life's dress parade

Who were boasting the cash sacrifices they'd made;

And I'd thought of my own paltry service with pride,

When I turned and that hero of battle I spied.

I shall never forget the hot flushes of shame

That rushed to my cheeks as that young fellow came.

He was cheerful and smiling and clear-eyed and fine

And out of his face golden light seemed to shine.

And I thought as he passed me on crutches:

“How small

Are the gifts that I make if I do n't give my all.”

Some day in the future in many a place

More soldiers just like him we'll all have to face.

We must sit with them, talk with them, laugh with them, too,

With the signs of their service forever in view

And this was my thought as I looked at him then

— Oh, God! make me worthy to stand with such men.