Judge, 1918-02-09 · page 3 of 36
Judge — February 9, 1918 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a poem by Sergeant H.C.L. Jackson (Camp Carter, Michigan) illustrated by Charles Sarka. The work appears to be WWI-era propaganda or morale content, likely from a soldiers' publication. The decorative borders—featuring angels, spirits, and supernatural figures—visualize the poem's central metaphor: that soldiers are surrounded by an invisible "Legion" of spiritual presences (saints, good forces, divine guidance) protecting them through the hardships of military life and combat. The poem addresses soldiers directly, referencing winter conditions, barracks life, and spiritual comfort during wartime. It's designed to boost morale by suggesting divine protection and meaning in military service—a common rhetorical strategy during WWI.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
E LEGION ALL UNS By Sergt. H. C. L. Jackson (Camp Carter, Michigan) the first grey dawn of winter chills the air around your bed, And the heavy hand of Morpheus seems still pressing on your head, As the sharp command of bugles bids you leave your tick of straw, ‘That you may once more seek knowledge of an ancient game still raw, Raw and reckless as the yeoman clad in fustian garments green: Don’t you know you're quite surrounded by the «| Legion all Unseen? As the swift day meets the evening and the twinkling lights creep out, Framing barrack rows with radiance—making wooden homes that flout All the chill November weather and the sting- ing breath of night; And you gather, hands in pockets, round the stove whose fire-bright Sends a soothing comfort through you till it enters to your spleen— Don’t you know you're quite surrounded by the Legion all Unseen? Working, playing, swearing, praying, laughing lip, or frowning brow, Every mood you give yourself to has a thousand sprites who know Whether they can bid or bar you on the path you tread today Saints and di float around you, either glad to use their sway That you may become as they are, spirits grand or spirits mea Won't you watch the way you're guided by the Legion all Unseen? Every time you pay obcisance to some rotten, crawling thought, All around you there is laughter—laughter like that of a sot Who has sent his wine dregs splashing, blotting “out a Bible page; Every time you do a service all the good of every age Stretches forth a hand to make you better than you e’er have been— Ah, be sure you heed the goodness in the Legion all Unseen! For each deed of worth you render THEY will in gold, ut added insight as to how you may unfold That your every waking moment may be filled -with service grand, And your soul, howe'er now tortured, may at last desery the land Where peace pa: understanding holds you in its shining she Ah, thank God, you are surrounded by the Legion all Unseen! Decorations by Cuarces Sarka