| I WAS just turned twenty-one, | |
| And Henry Phipps, the Sunday-school superintendent, | |
| Made a speech in Bindle’s Opera House. | |
| “The honor of the flag must be upheld,” he said, | |
| “Whether it be assailed by a barbarous tribe of Tagalogs | 5 |
| Or the greatest power in Europe.” | |
| And we cheered and cheered the speech and the flag he waved | |
| As he spoke. | |
| And I went to the war in spite of my father, | |
| And followed the flag till I saw it raised | 10 |
| By our camp in a rice field near Manila, | |
| And all of us cheered and cheered it. | |
| But there were flies and poisonous things; | |
| And there was the deadly water, | |
| And the cruel heat, | 15 |
| And the sickening, putrid food; | |
| And the smell of the trench just back of the tents | |
| Where the soldiers went to empty themselves; | |
| And there were the whores who followed us, full of syphilis; | |
| And beastly acts between ourselves or alone, | 20 |
| With bullying, hatred, degradation among us, | |
| And days of loathing and nights of fear | |
| To the hour of the charge through the steaming swamp, | |
| Following the flag, | |
| Till I fell with a scream, shot through the guts. | 25 |
| Now there’s a flag over me in Spoon River! | |
| A flag! A flag! |
Poem Number 194 in SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY 1916
http://www.bartleby.com/84/194.html
In Masters’s collection of post-mortem autobiographical “epitaphs,” 244 former citizens of the fictional Spoon River, Illinois tell us the truth about their lives—with the honesty no fear of consequences enables.
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