I was out early to-day, spying about <br />From the top of a haystack -- such a lovely morning -- <br />And when I mounted again to canter back <br />I saw across a field in the broad sunlight <br />A young Gunner Subaltern, stalking along <br />With a rook-rifle held at the read, and -- would you believe it? -- <br />A domestic cat, soberly marching beside him. <br /> <br />So I laughed, and felt quite well disposed to the youngster, <br />And shouted out "the top of the morning" to him, <br />And wished him "Good sport!" -- and then I remembered <br />My rank, and his, and what I ought to be doing: <br />And I rode nearer, and added, "I can only suppose <br />You have not seen the Commander-in-Chief's order <br />Forbidding English officers to annoy their Allies <br />By hunting and shooting." <br />But he stood and saluted <br />And said earnestly, "I beg your pardon, Sir, <br />I was only going out to shoot a sparrow <br />To feed my cat with." <br />So there was the whole picture, <br />The lovely early morning, the occasional shell <br />Screeching and scattering past us, the empty landscape, -- <br />Empty, except for the young Gunner saluting, <br />And the cat, anxiously watching his every movement. <br /> <br />I may be wrong, or I may have told it badly, <br />But it struck me as being extremely ludicrous.<br /><br />Sir Henry Newbolt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-letter-from-the-front/
