He was just a small church parson when the war broke out, and he <br />Looked and dressed and acted like all parsons that we see. <br />He wore the cleric's broadcloth and he hooked his vest behind, <br />But he had a man's religion and he had a strong man's mind, <br />And he heard the call to duty, and he quit his church and went, <br />And he bravely tramped right with 'em everywhere the boys were sent. <br /> <br />He put aside his broadcloth and he put the khaki on; <br />Said he'd come to be a soldier and was going to live like one. <br />Then he refereed the prize fights that the boys pulled off at night, <br />And if no one else was handy he'd put on the gloves and fight. <br />He wasn't there a fortnight ere he saw the soldiers' needs, <br />And he said: 'I'm done with preaching; this is now the time for deeds.' <br /> <br />He learned the sound of shrapnel, he could tell the size of shell <br />From the shriek it make above him, and he knew just where it fell. <br />In the front line trench he labored, and he knew the feel of mud, <br />And he didn't run from danger and he wasn't scared of blood. <br />He wrote letters for the wounded, and he cheered them with his jokes, <br />And he never made a visit without passing round the smokes. <br /> <br />Then one day a bullet got him, as he knelt beside a lad <br />Who was 'going west' right speedy, and they both seemed mighty glad, <br />'Cause he held the boy's hand tighter, and he smiled and whispered low, <br />'Now you needn't fear the journey; over there with you I'll go.' <br />And they both passed out together, arm in arm I think they went. <br />He had kept his vow to follow everywhere the boys were sent.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-chaplain/
