Volume 10 — THE WARRIOR
Reading edition
BY EUGENE FIELD
Under the window is a man, Playing an organ all the day, Grinding as only a cripple can, In a moody, vague, uncertain way. His coat is blue and upon his face Is a look of highborn, restless pride, There is somewhat about him of martial grace And an empty sleeve hangs at his side. "Tell me, warrior bold and true, In what carnage, night or day, Came the merciless shot to you, Bearing your good, right arm away?" Fire dies out in the patriot's eye, Changed my warrior's tone and mien, Choked by emotion he makes reply, "Kansas—harvest—threshing machine!"