Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-05-28
THE SOLDIER or 1912.

The following poem was recently
read by Comrade william Tucker to
Holiday Post comrades as anent Dec
grafton Day services, and as an inter-
esting and accurate description of an
old soldier of the war of 1912, who was
most interesting local figure in Wet
eel county fifty years ago:
An antique form. thro fifty years,
In recollection oft appears.
At times a halo round the head
From which, long since, the breath mas
fled.
Earth would we search, to-day. in vain,
TO find It's counterpart again:
Therefore with pen, as best l may,
Will to you, the man portray.
His form was sight. his nose was thin,
A long gOatee upon his chin.
None other beard: on weakened face,
Three score and ten had left its trace.
OF home grown flax his shirt was made,
And collar low his neck displayed;
And at his throat "a button blue,
Winch lack of tie, made plain to view
Erect. and with a rakfsh air,
On On shoulders fell his long gray bair;
His deep set eye sent forth such ray.
AS wolf, that keeps its foes at bay.
His old white hat. with narrow brim,
Askew, awry, was worn by him;
On his coarse shoes the mud was thick,
From hills of Little Fishing creek.
His homespun wammus, sumac red.
Confrasted with his Silvefed head;
His buckskin breeches, tit him too,
AS tight tho thpV him grew.
The movements of his legs back,
Were quicker than a jumping jack:
HIS sinews too. of hammered steel,
His bow would make an Ajax reel,
His supple legs and active arms,
Showed life for him had yet Its charrYs.
A clarion voice proclaimed at length
His deeds of valor and his strength.
Not then nor since, have I been told
How much of air his lungs would hold;
But to his boasts. oft silent. said,
Il wonder where you bury dead
In those old days, 10 prying eyes
Had Uncle Sam-not in disguise
The waters of the mountain rin
To nectar changed, in hidden still.
Not then, by stealth, at dead of night,
In secret delh by the moons pale light,
The farmer distilled, from grain that he
grew,
HIS previously cherished mountain dew"
Your social clubs and functions then,
Were needed not by gentlemen,
Fer each at home, his liquor drank,
Till down N Bacchus arms he sank.
Demon Rum-ful oft the human race.
Thy alluring chalce will embrace;
And quaff th.- poisoned nectar down,
ReSardFeSS ali, whoever troWn.
For his old friend, John Barleycorn.
Our fighting cock oft blew his horn.
And every time he drank with him,
A loving cup, full to the brim.
Twas then on court or muster day,
thousand men for miles away
Would swarm the town, with might and
main,
Amid them all. IN public square.
Our Manikin, each noon, would swear,
That he could easy whip the crowd,
One at time, fair play allowed
Then would he leap high up in air
Thrice clapping feet together there,
And dare the crowd anew to fight
Before his feet on ground would light.
I'm half alligator, half man,
Whip my weight in wildcats l can;
For new | stand, aloud cries he,
Upon the grounds of delicacy."
Old women-4bah your liver's white"
Thus would he rant, thus would he lave.
And yet his words no insult gave.
Ger all the fighting men, l know,
You wonder why he thus could crow:
For reason good, | need me- delve,
A soldier helm War of Twelve
His hand, his tongue could neer provoke,
In anger cen a feathers stroke
On him, had hand been roughly laid,
A riot sure, it would have made.
Like Damocfes, a single thread
Sustained a sword above his head;
Time with his scythe, cut it in twain,
The falling sword, it pierced his brain.
Say. tell me now.thou registering, blade,
Where MetempSychosis sent thy shade?
Is reincarnation false or true?
Was Death a friend or foe to you?
Say, tell me now-w.thout delay.
When fled thy soul from human clay,
Didst meet a clover hoof or shaven cowl?
Say, tell me now ere I forget,
Does Charon ply his ferry yet?
An Obolus? Vast that the fee
Ger Styx vast paid to transport thee?
Belize, thou didst with Isis sup
The Stygian waters from her cup?
If so, to ask Were all in vain,
An oath thou hast, her secrets 20 retain.
/ do not know which way he went
When messenger for him was sent;
Still went he np-think what din
AT heavens gate, If not let in.
If on celestial wings he flies.
Chanting TIE Deum S thro' the skies:
His treble voice, so sharp and shrill.
The quire itself. had best keep still.
Or if on golden harp he plays,
And with it sings his ancient lays
Then each Red Coat should surely go