A veteran too was there with shoulders broad
As is the marsh in Amherst’s neighborhood;
Of stature high and of a kingly stride,
And in his face there shone a noble pride.
His eyes bespoke a soul to never yield
In fair fought fight at home or battle field.
A civic man before the war began
And since its end again a civic man.
Beloved by all his comrades, young and old,
For wise decisions and for action bold;
His head was cool but kindly was his heart,
In every act of war he did his part—
In digging in to use the lowly spade,
In battle field to wield the bloody blade,
In trench, in rest, to eat the soldiers’ fare,
A man of manly breed, his wounds to bear.
Three years he served where colored poppies grow
Between the wooden “crosses, row on row,”
Observing all, so well could tell a tale
of Bourlon Wood or bloody Pachendaele.