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 neer 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.