A soldier lies dying after a bullet finds him, and a distant bugle sounds “Retreat,” which he hears as his own goodbye. The speaker is no eager old veteran; he is a musician and poet, a reluctant “fool at arms” who hated military tyranny. So it strikes him as strange and almost funny that this world he loathed should provide his farewell word. He feels no patriotic thrill—only a dry awareness that death is a release, and that the bugle’s salute means little to him. Still, he smiles at the “latest jest” time has played on him, then watches the western sky fade and slips away with the daylight. The mood is quiet, bittersweet, and gently ironic: sad, but calm and clear-eyed.
Hail and Farewell — Summary
The destined bullet wounded him, They brought him down to die, Far-off a bugle sounded him “Retreat,” Good-bye. Strange, that from ways so hated, And tyranny so hard Should come this strangely fated And farewell word. He thought, “Some Old Sweat might Have thrilled at heart to hear, Gone down into the night Too proud to fear! But I--the fool at arms, Musician, poet to boot, Who hail release; what charms In this salute?” He smiled--“The latest jest That time on me shall play.” And watched the dying west, Went out with the day.