With loud talking and laughter, <br />And a long, careless stride, <br />He paces the crowded pathway, <br />With head high in pride. <br />And mean men passing beside him <br />Shrink, as from one unclean, <br />From the strong son of England, <br />The servant of the Queen. <br /> <br />In the forefront of battle <br />I think I see him ride, <br />With the drawn sabre gleaming <br />That swings at his side; <br />With a bearing erect and stalwart, <br />And a look calm and keen, <br />The strong son of England, <br />The servant of the Queen. <br /> <br />When the drums beat to battle, <br />With a quick-leaping breath, <br />'Mid the rush and hurry of warfare <br />He rides down to death. <br />And the waiting and toil and hardship <br />Are as if they had not been <br />To the strong son of England, <br />The servant of the Queen. <br /> <br />When the wild charge is over <br />And the safe ground they gain, <br />He may hear a cry from behind him <br />Of a comrade in pain. <br />And back on his way of mercy <br />To the smoke-mantled scene <br />Goes the strong son of England, <br />The servant of the Queen.<br /><br />Cicely Fox Smith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-cavalry-soldier/
