XVIII.
Read, sweet, how others strove,
Till we were stouter;
What food renounced,
So we could eat more;
How many times they bore
The painful hunger,
While we helped ourselves
As if the cook would care!
Read then of ice cream dessert
That shone with sprinkles;
Thick-strained with berries
And pieces of chocolate;
Brave parents to skip that
Too and never
Complain about being
Gaunt and forlorn!
—
Happy Memorial Day. Here’s Dickinson’s original ode to sacrifice, albeit the religious kind.
