New-York tribune., 1920-03-13
The Coming 7'ower
BALIADE OF THE nRAvEST

II TIC AO5gIStltx 4 OIVCS
BALLADE OF THE HRAvEST
Sing to the lads who have journcyed back
After the glory Of tho fight;
Honor each Bill and Tom and Jack.
Who's fought his way in pain and fright
Honor them. but in the back Of your head,
Don't fail to keep one memory bright:
The very bravcat men are dead.
Forgive the lads II their work is slack
And their manners trife inpolite;
For civilian varnish will sometimes crack
To show you some Of the bitter spitc
That's bred in men when the reins are tight
And food is scarce and blood is shed.
Forgive, but keep one altar white:
The very bravest men are dead
Know, that the bravest led the pack:
Know that the bravest sought no flight:
Know that they led in each attack,
And the most Of them did not live to write
Books Of themselves, and they can't recite
High heroics and tales Of dread.
Then look on your ease with heart contrite:
The very bravest men are dead.
L'ENvOI
Friend. though your memory be slight,
And all your thought for daily bread.
Forget not, In your strength and might,
The very bravest men are dead.
Those who cannot keep from men,
tioning Kipling when they say "But
that's another story" are the same
lads who have to add Strange to say"
when they say ~ saw something funny
in Life the other day."
Epatant It Is
Sir: If the clothes Of another era
really are interesting, picture me on a
summer afternoon in 1893, boarding the
eunboat Gloucester, just back from the
Spanish War. With view to knocking
the eyes out of the young officers, was
got up in a stifly starched red and
white striped shirtwaist with gold
studs. surmounted by standing white
linen collar four and half inches
high-1 was built on long lincs--and a
blue and red silk Ascot tie. About my
slender waist was red belt, clasped
with Chinese silver buckle the size
Of bread and butter plate, the gift
of an ardent admirer, who said the
characters on it meant "a thousand
years Of happiness! Another a. q. said
they meant "Go TO the devil!" I know
now which was right, but-n'impoytcl
On the very pinnacle Of my curly brown
head was perched a narrow brimmed
white sailor hat with red band on
which the word "Chatham" was en-
broidered in large white silk letters for
fear people wouldn't know where
spent my summers. My skirt was Of
white duck robust enough for the main
sail Of four-master and properly
starched; it weighed about six pounds.
My Chippendale legs were encased in
scarlet silk stockings, and wore heavy
tan low shoes with round toes and
soles about half an inch thick. At the
time the get-up was considered very
chic. Looking back over a couple Of
decades, should say epatant was a
better word. DAISY BELL.
On that summer afternoon in 1898
we were, alas, nowhere near the gun
boat Gloucester. But if Daisy had
been in Oconomowoc, Wis, that day
she might have seen us riding Barnes
White Flyer toward Delafleld or may
be 1t was Nashotah. Bicycle shoes,
plaid stockings, knickerbockers, turtle |
neck sweater, and a cap with long
visor made up our costume. And in
the evening patent leather shoes, white |
duck trousers with an fndestructible !
crease, pink shirt with tie to match,
high white collar, and d. b. blue
serge coat.
The coat, Of course, would be re-
moved after supper, when one became |
an oarsman. 1t would lie in the bow of
the boat or on the lap Of girl three
or four years older than the oarsman. |
The collar, however, was not to be re-
moved under any conditions.
The privilege Of purchasing lemon.
ade for young women garbed somewhat |
like Daisy Bell (see aboveD or of TAX
ing them rowing was restricted to Mon. |
days, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, anG
A''i 'eoyo. LII 1850 young woman /
had her future to think Of and or FRI |
days, Saturdays and Sundays, when the
self-supporting business men came to
philander, she could not afford to waste |
the precious hours with young Willie |
Baxters whose college Aagpin fastened
her white puff tie to her blue shirt
waist.
Those Interboroueh Blues
l got those Interborou9h blues:
I've got those bonds Of many shade, of hu.a
wish I'd invested the money in stocking |
up booze.
Ihat Is the reason I've got the Interborouob |
plues. MARCEL SruINBRUccB
Mr.. Arthur Brisbane observes that |
Ruth Randall's diary proves that the
wages of sin is death. Our conjecture
is that it doesn't prove anything except |
that woman named Ruth Randall
wrote diary. AS to the wages Of sin
being death, that, we fear, is a ques-
tion Of definition. 1t depends on what
you mean by "wages," "sin," and |
death"
The New York varca os -.r..,.s J.,