I met a man, a countryman, who fights for the other side, in the belief that the United States, as depicted by the press and the universities and the Democratic Party, is an evil curse upon a peace loving world. He was young, and lost, and unafraid of death, or so he said. Dirty, bearded, he stopped in for a drink, and I engaged him in conversation. When I asked why he fought for so unsavory a cause, he said

 

I have a life that’s mine to give

To do with as I please

From dust I came, to dust return

I’m but winemaker’s lees

So saying thus he turned to go

His ideals brave and strong

To die for causes he held dear

Yet could this man be wrong?

There’s more to life than wine made lees

I said in quiet way

And not from dust have you appeared

As some would perhaps say

So now it’s God, he scoffed, amused

He’s long been dead and gone

I live my life till it is done

There is no second dawn

But what, I said, if it is true

That you and I have souls

And God is there for you to find

To show you men have roles

Beyond the empty daily strife

You find so dull and drear

He’s here, in flesh, if you but see

He speaks, if you but hear

A shadow world, he scoffed again

Sharp tales for boys and girls

A mix of fables brought to froth

A drink of bubbled swirls

He turned and left, I watched him go

A man borne on the tide

But we shall meet again one day

Upon the other side