Owen Seaman (Оуэн Симен)

Thomas of the Light Heart

Facing the guns, he jokes as well
   As any Judge upon the Bench;
Between the crash of shell and shell
   His laughter rings along the trench;
He seems immensely tickled by a
Projectile which he calls a "Black Maria."

He whistles down the day-long road,
   And, when the chilly shadows fall
And heavier hangs the weary load,
   Is he down-hearted? Not at all.
'T is then he takes a light and airy
View of the tedious route to Tipperary.

His songs are not exactly hymns;
   He never learned them in the choir;
And yet they brace his dragging limbs
   Although they miss the sacred fire;
Although his choice and cherished gems
Do not include "The Watch upon the Thames."

He takes to fighting as a game;
   He does no talking, through his hat,
Of holy missions; all the same
   He has his faith—be sure of that;
He'll not disgrace his sporting breed,
Nor play what isn't cricket. There's his creed.

1. To Belgium in Exile
2. Ars Postera
3. The Wayside Calvary
4. To the Memory of Field-Marshall Earl Roberts
5. Yet

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