A Letter From the Front

　　I was out early to-day， spying about

　　　　From the top of a haystack -- such a lovely morning --

　　　　And when I mounted again to canter back

　　　　I saw across a field in the broad sunlight

　　　　A young Gunner Subaltern， stalking along

　　　　With a rook-rifle held at the read， and -- would you believe it？ --

　　　　A domestic cat， soberly marching beside him.

　　　　So I laughed， and felt quite well disposed to the youngster，

　　　　And shouted out "the top of the morning" to him，

　　　　And wished him "Good sport！" -- and then I remembered

　　　　My rank， and his， and what I ought to be doing：

　　　　And I rode nearer， and added， "I can only suppose

　　　　You have not seen the Commander-in-Chief's order

　　　　Forbidding English officers to annoy their Allies

　　　　By hunting and shooting."

　　　　But he stood and saluted

　　　　And said earnestly， "I beg your pardon， Sir，

　　　　I was only going out to shoot a sparrow

　　　　To feed my cat with."

　　　　So there was the whole picture，

　　　　The lovely early morning， the occasional shell

　　　　Screeching and scattering past us， the empty landscape， --

　　　　Empty， except for the young Gunner saluting，

　　　　And the cat， anxiously watching his every movement.

　　　　I may be wrong， or I may have told it badly，

　　　　But it struck me as being extremely ludicrous.