Beds To The Front Of Them Poem by Louisa May Alcott
Beds To The Front Of Them
'Beds to the front of them,
Beds to the right of them,
Beds to the left of them,
Nobody blundered.
Beamed at by hungry souls,
Screamed at with brimming bowls,
Steamed at by army rolls,
Buttered and sundered.
With coffee not cannon plied,
Each must be satisfied,
Whether they lived or died;
All the men wondered.'
Nature is ever changing being; it's wondering gyre; it's fair
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4/25/2024 3:16:17 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Loved it.