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A Poem by Vachel Lindsay On Reading Omar Khayyam [During an anti-saloon campaign, in central Illinois] In the midst of the battle I turned, (For the thunders could flourish without me) And hid by a rose-hung wall, Forgetting the murder about me; And wrote, from my wound, on the stone, In mirth, half prayer, half play:-- "Send me a picture book, Send me a song, today." I saw him there by the wall When I scarce had written the line, In the enemy's colors dressed And the serpent-standard of ...

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A great city and a little humor

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Talking Old Soldiers lyrics Why hello, say can I buy you another glass of beer Well thanks a lot that's kind of you, it's nice to know you care These days there's so much going on No one seems to want to know I may be just an old soldier to some But I know how it feels to grow old Yeah that's right, you can see me here most every night You'll always see me staring at the walls and at the lights Funny I remember oh it's years ago I'd say I'd stand at that bar with my friends who've passed ...

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The Flag A protest raged on a courthouse lawn, round a makeshift stage they charged on. Fifteen hundred or more they say, had come to burn the Flag that day. A boy held up the folded Flag, cursed it and called it a dirty rag. A man pushed through the angry crowd, with an old gun shouldered proud. His uniform jacket was old and tight, he had polished each button, shiny and bright. He crossed the stage with military grace, until he and the boy stood face to face. Then the old man broke the ...

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