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A Sonnet, In Service, For
by John Theopolis
They also serve, who stand and wait
and guard our bounds from the entry gate.
Scorn not those who halt you here;
or ask you to be quiet, or look askance at your beer.
We do in the night so that in the sun
The Crown of the West can be fought for and won.
The singers may sing, the mummers may play,
the camps may prepare the food for the day.
But think not that we are sad faced and dour
or that doing these duties is wasting our hour.
Every face at the gate is the face of a friend,
every thing that we do is some help that we send.
In our world of great glory, of grandeur and art
Our work is the lifeblood of the societies' heart.
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