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WITH A FRIEND
(The following copy of a poem was found by Tech Sgt. Joseph T. Boyle,
Service Co., on the body of a Yank, killed in action, somewhere in France.)
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Lord, God, I have never spoken to you.
But now I want to say: "How do you do?"
You see, God, they told me you didn't exist—
And like a fool I believed all this.
Last night from a shell hole I saw your sky
And figured right then they told me a lie.
But had I taken time to see; things you; made,
I'd have known they weren't calling a spade a spade.
I wonder, God, if you'd shake my hand,
Somehow I feel that you’ll understand.
Funny I had to come to this hellish place
Before I had time to see your face.
Well, I guess there isn't much, more to say;
But I’m sure glad, God, I met you today.
1 guess the zero hour will soon be here,
But I'm not afraid, since I know you're here.
The signal. Well, God, I'll have to go—
I like you lots, this I want you to know.
Look now! This will be a horrible fight;
Who knows, I may come to your house tonight.
Tho I wasn’t friendly to you before,
I wonder, God, if you’ll wait at your door?
Look, I'm crying — me shedding tears!
I wish I had known you, these many years.
Well, God, I have to go now——Good-bye—
Strange, since I met you. I’m not afraid to die.
This copy appeared in the Brooklyn Tablet,
Diocese of Brooklyn, NY, date
unknown.--------
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