Los Angeles herald., 1907-01-09
FOR THE LIVES OF MEN AND THE
FATHERLAND

20, who ill carry message for mo.
Anrough the enemy's lines into Bois-le-
And race with death by the darlsepod soo
land" 0 "'iiei-
And l will take It," cried Kari tho
scout, t"S
win carry your message to Boise-le.
grand: o'S'-'e~
But shrlve my soul, ere my setting ort
To race with death for the Fatherlsn9,' Az
Now shrive thy soul ere the moon rise
Now grasp me thy lance's shaft in hand.
Now saddle horse as black as the nirht,
Ana ride for the love of the Father
tide, VAC ''oii"S
Heard through the crash of the break.
Ing seas;
Quick, through the darkness. strike and
stride "'"
Galloping. galloping down the breeze.
Lost in the roar. and blotted ont.
Louder and nearer, ana coming fast:
Body of God A Prussian scout,
swift as the whirl of the tempest blast"
a hurry of hoofs and clank Of steel
a sentineis challenge, a moclxing cry.
n lance 9 thrust and a sudden wheel:
AND mes through their piIkets and
thunders by.
Fire at himl Shoot him. Jean and Paul,
- Damn this oreech block. jamming tight!
Down with the horse, and the rider'li fall
Gone like ghost in the binding nightV'
Gone with rush for the race with death
win bullet Craze from the starters
Not a pull or pause to gasp for breath
TIL the post be passed and the stake be
won.
Now gallop, now gallop, my coal black
As never before on the foeman's ranks;
Now keep the lead with all thy speed;
For skeleton horse is on thy flanks.
Side by side. can hear his stride,
On the boundless shores of the darkened
Five leagues long and full mile wide,
no, ho!-What course for death and
"Ho, ho!-what course for death and
Smooth and hard on the level sand.
Straight and true as a track can be,
Fol-, the lives of men and the Father
land"
Through the heart of a voley. roaring
He reaches their lines, with ringing feet.
And there's never pause in their music
proud,
Or a change in the time of their ryth-
mic beat.
The rush of a rider down the night;
A thunder of guns along the sea:
And, dashing their files to left and right,
Has broken their ranks, and gallops-
free
Forty feet at a swinging stride,
Leaping on to the singing goad,
He laughs, as their bullets go singing
And the Frenchmen curse, as they fire
and load.
Fool and fanatic. to tempt his fate;
Yet, IL he lives. we have lost the day.
Telegraph on. ere II proves too late.
Half our cavalry-CLOSE THE WAY!'
A clock strikes, close in a darkened spire
He fits a shadow beneath the stars;
But swifter flies, on it's wings of fire.
The fatal flash that his passage bars.
Vainly he urges and spurs his steed,
Sparing him not as he nears his goal;
Never the charger shall serve his need
Never a horse that mare did foal.
o. who will carry a message for me-
Through the enemy's lines into Bos-le'
And race with Death. by the darkened
For our brothers lives and the Father
land.
Now stretch thy rock, thou gallant black;
Yet fear this race shall be thy last;
For the heshess rider holds the track
And his skeleton mount is winning fast,
Ger dreary dune as the rising moon
Showed a dead. white face to the sea
and land
With his strrups beating a burial tune.
Came a riderless horse into Bos-le-
grand.
There was hood on his name; there was
blood on his rein,
And a bloody dispatch on his girth's
broad band,
So the race was run. and the battle was
won,
Ere we fred a gun-for the Fatherland,
Bertrand Shadwell, in the Chicago
Evening Post.
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