Thanks in Old Age

Thanks in old age⁠—thanks ere I go,
For health, the midday sun, the impalpable air⁠—for life, mere life,
For precious ever-lingering memories, (of you my mother dear⁠—you, father⁠—you, brothers, sisters, friends,)
For all my days⁠—not those of peace alone⁠—the days of war the same,
For gentle words, caresses, gifts from foreign lands,
For shelter, wine and meat⁠—for sweet appreciation,
(You distant, dim unknown⁠—or young or old⁠—countless, unspecified, readers belov’d,
We never met, and ne’er shall meet⁠—and yet our souls embrace, long, close and long;)
For beings, groups, love, deeds, words, books⁠—for colors, forms,
For all the brave strong men⁠—devoted, hardy men⁠—who’ve forward sprung in freedom’s help, all years, all lands,
For braver, stronger, more devoted men⁠—(a special laurel ere I go, to life’s war’s chosen ones,
The cannoneers of song and thought⁠—the great artillerists⁠—the foremost leaders, captains of the soul:)
As soldier from an ended war return’d⁠—As traveler out of myriads, to the long procession retrospective,
Thanks⁠—joyful thanks!⁠—a soldier’s, traveler’s thanks.