Henry Fairfield limping along with his sticks, Shot through both hips at Antietam. He didn’t care, Except for losing Bailey, which made it tough. He tried to puzzle out the change in his world But gave it up. Things and people looked just the same, You could love or like or detest them just the same way, But whenever you tried to talk of your new dimension It didn’t sound right, except to creatures like Bailey. “I have met you twice, old, drunken charioteer, The third time you may teach me how to be cool.”