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TO WOLCOTT BALESTIER .
Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled,
TO T. A..
I have made for you a song,
"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade,
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
"Soldier, soldier come from the wars,"
We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool,