Poems (Kennedy)/Transformation

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TRANSFORMATION
WE pass along the city streets, Oppressed with sense of change;The pavements seem so gray and lone, The corners dull and strange.And then we realize that what We miss these summer noonsAre "shrieking" shirts and "passion" sox Of by-gone yester-Junes.
And suddenly it comes to us, Decreed by martial law,The boys who were our "jelly-beans" Have gone away to war. ​Have gone away, and ah! it stirs And quickens all our bloodTo know their trainers say of them: "The lads are making good."
The boys who laughed and loafed and smoked And danced the jazz-time ragAre serving Uncle Sam today As soldiers of the flag.The "shrieking" shirt's a khaki blouse, The sox of riot hueAre woolen gray, and lose themselves In wide-toed army shoe.
The heads are up, the shoulders square; They walk with martial swing—You had not dreamed a "Willy-boy" Could bloom to such a thing.The one-time pasty skins are seared With coat of ocre tan;Hats off! and see a "jelly-bean" Evolve into a man!
And when the war is done and they Come marching home to us,You wager both your blooming eyes We're going to make a fuss,And shout until our throats are hoarse For every transformed ladWho went away in screaming clothes And comes back khaki clad!
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