A boy sits by the roadside,
with a tattered jacket.
In the company of the rain, dews and mist.
Cluster of griefs & pain host a conference in his mind.
...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.