Caroling Dusk/Salutamus

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SALUTAMUS

(O Gentlemen the time of Life is short—Henry IV)

The bitterness of days like these we know;Much, much we know, yet cannot understandWhat was our crime that such a searing brandNot of our choosing, keeps us hated so.Despair and disappointment only grow,Whatever seeds are planted from our hand,What though some roads wind through a gladsome land?It is a gloomy path that we must go.
And yet we know relief will come some dayFor these seared breasts; and lads as brave againWill plant and find a fairer crop than ours.It must be due our hearts, our minds, our powers;These are the beacons to blaze out the way.We must plunge onward; onward, gentlemen. . . .

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