我在路边采花，准备放在比尔的坟上;我溜出了茅屋，因为杰姆不会理解的。他会说我是一个愚蠢的胖子，看到我在玉米地里，手里拿着一本大书，他就觉得恶心。对我和吉姆来说，我们是粗鲁的人，但比尔是最好的;我们列了单子，一起学会了如何面对即将到来的灾难;然后，比尔拿了一包合适的东西，动身往西走了。太突然了，他来不及跟他的朋友们告别。他们把我带到种他的地方，一个可怜的小丘，我想，比尔会被逗乐的，他是那么柔软和古怪，如果我采一束野花，把它们像一种血腥的头饰一样排列起来……这就是我来这里的原因但不是为了荣誉，我不想让吉姆知道。“我要叫我爱流口水的西茜，直到我的两腿发痛为止。 I'd 'ave larfed at meself too, it isn't so long ago; But some'ow it changes a feller, 'avin' a taste o' war. It 'elps a man to be 'elpful, to know wot 'is pals is worth (Them golden poppies is blazin' like lamps some fairy 'as lit); I'm fond o' them big white dysies. . . . Now Jim's o' the salt o' the earth; But 'e 'as got a tongue wot's a terror, and 'e ain't sentimental a bit. I likes them blue chaps wot's 'idin' so shylike among the corn. Won't Bill be glad! We was allus thicker 'n thieves, us three. Why! 'Oo's that singin' so 'earty? JIM! And as sure as I'm born 'E's there in the giddy cornfields, a-gatherin' flowers like me. Quick! Drop me posy be'ind me. I watches 'im for a while, Then I says: "Wot 'o, there, Chummy! Wot price the little bookay?" And 'e starts like a bloke wot's guilty, and 'e says with a sheepish smile: "She's a bit of orl right, the widder wot keeps the estaminay." So 'e goes away in a 'urry, and I wishes 'im best o' luck, And I picks up me bunch o' wild-flowers, and the light's gettin' sorto dim, When I makes me way to the boneyard, and . . . I stares like a man wot's stuck, For wot do I see? Bill's grave-mound strewn with the flowers of Jim. Of course I won't never tell 'im, bein' a tactical lad; And Jim parley-voos to the widder: "Trez beans, lamoor; compree?" Oh, 'e'd die of shame if 'e knew I knew; but say! won't Bill be glad When 'e stares through the bleedin' clods and sees the blossoms of Jim and me?