  After the flight of thirty long years They came at the welcome call; Someone had suggested a reunion Of the “old corps,” one and all. They came from the village and crossroads, The town, the shop, and the farm; Just as they did thirty years ago, When their hearts were young and warm. They met at the “campfire” of reunion, Clasped hands as comrades once more, Recalled the deeds of the dauntless past, And their campaigns recounted o’er. “Fall in—after thirty years!” With the same old ring, save a tremble, And his eyes were misty with tears. And they formed in column by the left, “Proved” in sections and in fours, Just as they did thirty years ago, Guarding our frontier shores. But not with the same quick precision As when young and strong and gay; But they did it, and with kindling eyes, Though old and worn and gray. “Call the roll!” the old major ordered, “Call the living and the dead!” And a solemn hush fell along the line, And bowed was each veteran head. The orderly stepped to the centre, In front of the grand “old corps,” And called the names that were dimmed by time, As he had thirty years before. And the “Tommy A’s” along the line Answered, “Here, sir!” or “Dead! dead!” The sections were thinned by the march of time, Where all youthfulness had fled. A route march through the town was taken And the people en masse turned out, And greeted the flag and the grand “old corps” With welcome and loyal shout. Then they deploy from column to line, And turn to the right in fours; And the band and the colors anon “take post,” And the loyal heart upsoars. And the air was rent with cheers; The band struck up, and they marched away To the “British Grenadiers.” But not as they did thirty years ago, For time mars the soldier’s form; Not so erect or steady the pace, But to-day their old hearts are warm. And, if need be, for the Union Jack E’en yet they would take their stand, To fight for the flag all love so well, And our fair Canadian land. Their ranks are formed for the last grand march Down to a strange riverside— The wonderful river all must reach, That is deep and dark and wide. They soon will have gained its margin— God grant them safe transport o’er, And a campfire and grand reunion, A bivouac on the other shore. |
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