The record., 1917-06-07

Gl:SN
BY JAMIE: WHITCOMB RILEY.
Copyright. 1851. 1858, by James WhitcouH
Riley.
! HAT shall we say CT the soldie-r
Grant
NM His sword put by and his grea:
w r,,. soul SOU, f rec ,.,,,. ,,,,,, -
chant
His requiem hcfittingiy?
The fields Of hisrconquest now are .sce2
Ranged 10 more with his armed mon,
Eut the rank and file of the gold and green
CT the waving grain is there again.
Though his valiant life is a nations pride,
And his death heroic and half divine,
And our grief as great as tae world is
wide,% H.
There breaks in speech but single line
We loved bin living, revere him dead.
~ SilcncGEthcn on our lips is laid.
We can say no thing that has not been
said
FOR pray one prayer that has not been
prayed.
P',: i spirit within us speaks and, 10,
We lean and listen tt WondrouS words
That have sound as of winds that blow
And the voice of waters and low of
herds,
And we hear, as the song flows OH serene
The neigh OF horses and then tie beat
Of-hoCfs that skurry DER pastures green
And tie pdttcr and pad of Il boys bare
a brave lad, wearing manly brow,
Knit as With problems of grave dispute
And a face like the bloom OF the orchar d
Dough,
Pin,~and palId, but resolute,
And flushed it grows as the clover bloom
And fresh It i,.ela.s as Tie morning dew
AS lie rcins his stecd where the quick
quais boom
Up from the grasses he races through.
And, ho. rs lie rides what dreams arc his
And wlr,t have the breczcs to suggest?
Do they Thisper to him of shells thai
Whiz
dressed?
Docs tie iiawk above him an eagle float?
Does Ire thrill asld lis boyish heart bea
high,
Hearing the ribbon about his throat
Flap as a flag as the winds so by?
And docs he dream of the warriors fame
This western boy III his; rustic dress?
! For, in miniature, this is the man tina
came
Riding out OF the Wilderness
| The selfsAme figure, the knitted brow,
The eyes full steady. the lips fun mute,
And the face, like the bioonl of the or
chard bouSh,
Pink and pallid; but resolute.
Aye, this is the man, With features grim
! And stoical as the SphihX's own,
! That heard the harsh gun5 chilling him,
AS musical az the bugle blown,
when the sweet spring heavens wer
| cloud2d Ger
With Il tempest, glowering and wild,
And our country's flag bowed down be
fore
I Its bursting wrath us a stricken child.
| Thus ready mounted and booted am
| spurrCd,
He loosed his bride and dashed away.
! Like 4 roll Of drums were his hoof beat
: he ri.
Like the shrek of the fife his charger
neigh.
And over his shoulder and bacllwar
We heard his voice and we saw the so
I Reel as our wild steeds chased his own
As though hurled on by the hand of Coo
+ Ard st !, ey, sc i!I.a ride
/ In the blood red front of hundre
trays,
His, face set stolid. but glorilicd
AS knights of the Old Arthurian day!
| And Victor ever rs eourtly, too
! Gently lifting the vanQuished foe
And staying him with hand as true
As dealt the deadly avenSinS blow.
SO. brighter than all Of the cluster of stal
OF the flag cashrouding his form today,
Ills face shines forth from the CRIME {
wars
With glory that shall not pass away.
tIo rcS.s a last: he has borne his part
OF salutes and sGlvos and cheers G
cheers.
But. oh. +he sobs of his country's heart
And the driving rain of a nations tear