CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
 UBRARIES 
 
 ITHACA, N. Y. 14853 
 
 John M. Echols , 
 Collection on Southeast Asia 
 JOHN M. OLIN LIBRARY 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS3513.A715M81907 
 
 My bunkie, and other ballads, 
 
 3 1924 012 280 065 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924012280065 
 
MY BUNKIE 
 
 AND OTHER BALLADS 
 
My Bunkie 
 
 and Other Ballads 
 
 BY . 
 
 ERWIN CLARKSON GARRETT 
 
 Philadelphia & London 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
 
 1907 
 
Copyright, 1907 
 By Erwin Clabkson Gabrett 
 
 Published November, 1907 
 
 Printed by J. B. LippincoU Company 
 The Washington Square Press, Philadelphia, V. S. A. 
 
To THE Memory op 
 
 a very dear old cavalryman 
 
 My Father 
 
 Ca^ttt (Deorge %, <Oarirett 
 
 THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The first part of this book is composed of 
 army verses based on my personal experiences 
 when serving as a private in Companies " L" and 
 " G," 23rd U. S. Infantry ("Regulars ") and Troop 
 "I," 5th U.S. Cavalry ("Regulars"), during 
 the Philippine Insurrection of 1899-1902; the 
 four initial pieces being simply army " types " 
 true of "the Service" in general; next a number 
 of verses applicable to the Philippines in par- 
 ticular, and more especially to the Insurrection. 
 In natural order then follow the returned soldier's 
 reminiscences and other army themes. In this 
 way a rational continuity has been preserved. 
 
 The latter part of the volume consists of 
 verses on various subjects, with no especial regard 
 to sequence. 
 
 I am indebted to the following publications 
 for permission to reprint these things of mine; 
 many of which have, from time to time, appeared 
 in them:— "Book News," "Harper's Weekly," 
 "The Philadelphia Inquirer," "The Evening 
 Bulletin" (Philadelphia), "The Evening Tele- 
 graph " (Philadelphia) and " The Pittsburg Post." 
 
It would seem, in conclusion, to be no more 
 than appropriate to append here an obituary 
 notice, the most concise and correct one of 
 several appearing in Philadelphia newspapers at 
 the time of the death of my father, to whom this 
 book is dedicated^ 
 
 George L. Garrett of Germantown, died on Thursday 
 in his seventieth year at Atlantic City. He was born in 1838, 
 the son of George H. and Margaret Hall Garrett, and traced 
 his ancestry back to the early history of Pennsylvania, when 
 in 1696 Thomas Garrett received a grant of land along the 
 Brandywine river from Letitia Penn, wife of William Penn. 
 In George L. Garrett's grandfather's time the family moved 
 to South Washington Square, and in his father's time to 
 Germantown. Mr. Garrett was a member of the Loyal 
 Legion. He enlisted in the Civil War in 1861 in Anderson's 
 Troop, later serving as an oflScer in the Fourth Missouri 
 Cavalry. After serving for almost three years he was cap- 
 tured by the Confederates and placed in Libby Prison, where 
 he remained nine months. At the close of the war he was 
 asked to serve on the Western frontier as major, having been 
 advanced from second lieutenant to first lieutenant for 
 bravery. Upon declining to enter the regular service he was 
 honorably discharged with the office of brevet captain. 
 
 Mr. Garrett then took up his work as civil engineer in 
 the firm of George E. Waring. Sirfeen years ago he re- 
 tired from active life. He is survived by his widow, who was 
 Sophia C. Gray, and two sons, Charles Hall and Erwin 
 Clarkson Garrett. 
 
 E. C. G. 
 
 Philadelphia, November 1, 1907. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FASX 
 
 Mt Bunkie 13 
 
 The Doo-Robber 16 
 
 The Old Sebgeant 19 
 
 The Rookie 22 
 
 The Cruel American Soldier 24 
 
 The Army Growl 27 
 
 A SotJTHEBN Philippine Guard 30 
 
 Hiking 33 
 
 The Night Rest 37 
 
 Mail-Dat in the Philippines 39 
 
 The Bosoboso Trail 43 
 
 Philippine Twilight 47 
 
 The Beno Curse 50 
 
 Someone's Got a Mandolin 53 
 
 The Islands' Hand 57 
 
 "Taps" 60 
 
 The Regular Cavalree 62 
 
 General Nelson A. Miles 64 
 
 The Ex-Soldier's Trip Back 66 
 
 Major Sour 70 
 
 Army Beans 73 
 
 Bugles Calling 76 
 
 Heroes 79 
 
 An Exile 81 
 
 The Machine Gun 83 
 
PAGE 
 
 ReouiiAB and Militiaman 86 
 
 The Newer School op Poexbt 89 
 
 Wab 91 
 
 Music 93 
 
 The Millionaires 94 
 
 JOGOINS 95 
 
 The Song of the Battleship 100 
 
 Abolas at Jolo 103 
 
 OuB Ships or Good Intention 107 
 
 Christmas Greeting 109 
 
 The Empibe Cities 110 
 
 The Heart op the Rover 115 
 
 The Class op 1906 to Dr. Smith 117 
 
 Pennsylvania 1906 to Harvard '29 118 
 
 To A College Friendship 119 
 
 The Song op Asia 121 
 
 A Ballad op the Old East 125 
 
 The Calling op the Winds 134 
 
 The Land op Neveh-Never 136 
 
 The Brotherhood 138 
 
 The Lat op Cbecy 141 
 
 The Failers 147 
 
 The Citt Moon 149 
 
 The Doubter 152 
 
 The Song op the Blind 166 
 
Heaven and Hell and Sorrow and Joy and Love 
 
 and War and Strife — 
 What a comical combination goes to making a 
 soldier's life. 
 He's dark for a coat of white-wash — 
 But " white " 'neath his coat of tan — 
 So hold out your paw, 
 {And your heart, what's more). 
 To the Regular Army man. 
 Yes Yes: 
 And a three times three with a ripping roar 
 For the Regular Army Man. 
 
MY BUNKIE 
 
 He's mostly gnarls and freckles and tan, 
 He'd surely come under Society's ban, 
 He's a swearing, fighting cavalryman, 
 But — ^he's my bunkie. 
 
 He's weathered the winds of the Western waste — 
 (Oh you, gentle Christian, would call him de- 
 based) — 
 And he's loved at his ease and married in haste, 
 Has my bunkie. 
 
 In a Philippine paddy he's slept in the rain 
 When he's drunk rotten beno that drives you 
 
 insane : 
 And he's often court-martialed — yes over again, 
 Is my bunkie. 
 
 He's been on a booze the whole blooming night 
 To mount guard the next morning most awfully 
 tight ; 
 
 [13] 
 
Though he's " dressed " like a soldier when given 
 " Guide right," 
 
 Has my bunkie. 
 
 He doesn't know Browning or Ibsen or Keats, 
 But he knows mighty well when the other man 
 
 cheats. 
 And he hcks him and makes him the laugh of the 
 
 " streets "— 
 
 Does my bunkie. 
 
 He stands by and cheers when I'm having fun, 
 And when it is over says " Pretty well done." 
 Though he takes a large hand if they rush two to 
 one. 
 
 For — he's my bunkie. 
 
 When " Taps " has blown and all the troop sleep, 
 We nudge each other and gingerly creep 
 To there where the shadows hang heavy and deep, 
 I and bunkie. 
 
 And then when the fire-flies flittering roam. 
 We sit close together out there in the gloam 
 And talk about things appertaining to home, 
 I and bunkie. 
 [14] 
 
If the sweet tropic fever is shrinking my spine, 
 And they blow " Boots and Saddles " to chase the 
 
 brown swine, 
 He'll give me a leg-up and ride me in line, 
 Will my bunkie. 
 
 And if I get hit — ^his arm goes around, 
 And raises me tenderly off of the ground. 
 And the words on his lips are a comforting sound, 
 The words on the lips of my bunkie. 
 
 [15] 
 
THE DOG-ROBBER 
 
 It's anything but " Duty "— 
 
 It's anything but work — 
 It's sit with a pen in the sergeant's den 
 
 And see what you can shirk. 
 
 It's polish the first lieutenant's shoes 
 
 And be the captain's " maid." 
 It's something else than walking post. 
 
 Or drill or dress parade. 
 
 It's feet on a table and cigarettes 
 When the men go out to groom, 
 
 And the details pass through the paddy grass 
 In the slough of the falling gloom. 
 
 It's wearing four-inch collars 
 
 When the troop is on the trail ; 
 It's strutting by with a haughty eye 
 
 When rations start to fail. 
 
 [16] 
 
It's sitting safe in a guarded town 
 With three square meals a day, 
 
 When the rest are out on a stinking scout 
 Some thirty miles away. 
 
 It's digging deep with a doughty pen 
 
 In a " casa " clean and dry, 
 While the splash and thud in the six-months' mud 
 
 Tells where the troop goes by. 
 
 (While the heavy hush of the dawning day 
 
 Lifts — amber, dun and red. 
 And the palms look down on the nipa town 
 
 To count the khaki dead.) 
 
 (When the palms look down on his final gasp 
 
 And they turn him to the sky — 
 And the Captured stare through their matted hair 
 
 To see how the strong can die.) 
 
 It's being a damned civilian, 
 Tiked out in blue and tan. 
 
 When you came in to fight like sin 
 And be a soldierman. 
 
 g [17] 
 
For it's everything under heaven 
 A Ranker shouldn't do; 
 
 And even down to the rookie clown 
 They scorn and laugh at you. 
 
 It's anythmg but " duty " — 
 It's anything but work — 
 
 It's extra pay and an easy day. 
 And shirk — shirk — shirk. 
 
 [18] 
 
THE OLD SERGEANT 
 
 When I saw him he was sitting looking out across a 
 valley — 
 Fair and fertile — palm-bestudded — mountain- 
 backed and green; 
 But the strong gray eyes were weary, just a very 
 trifle weary 
 With the long, long years of service they had 
 seen. 
 
 And I kind of took it easy — spoke about the pleas- 
 ant weather — 
 And the landscape and the people and the ways ; 
 And the Service — I had seen it? — O well just a 
 little — poco — 
 So that pronto it was drifting to the tale of 
 other days. 
 
 Santiago — ^Arizona — and Caloocan and the North 
 Line — 
 Palm and sage-brush — ^insurrecto — Espanol — 
 
 Gieronimo 
 
 [19] 
 
And the valley and the mountains doing splendid 
 yeoman service 
 For the shifting scenes of battle as I watched 
 them come and go. 
 
 Though more vivid than the valley — ^though more 
 mighty than the mountains — 
 Though more telling than " the telling " far — 
 to me — 
 Seemed the sun-seared wind-scarred visage and the 
 unrelenting shoulders 
 And mustache and hair awhitening like the com- 
 bers out at sea. 
 
 But the watchful eyes and weary told the story yet 
 more clearly, 
 Alkali and cactus valley — transport — paddy — 
 wind and rain — 
 Riven, roweled, reformed and roaring — year on 
 year through wait and warring — 
 Lifting yet the faithful burning epochs slowly 
 back again. 
 
 Cease counting coin, CitMicm, for just a 
 little mkmte: 
 Stop driUmg Rookie — 'sptro— Atten- 
 tion there I say: 
 
 [20] 
 
Salute! . . . A Nation stands secure 
 while men like he are in it 
 To lead a charge or check a rush or 
 tide a turning day. 
 
 And when the gold-laced brigadiers re- 
 flect the gleaming sunlight — 
 When plumed and burnished aid-de- 
 camps are clanking gaily by — 
 Look where you see him, — grim and 
 straight, eyes front, unmoved and 
 splendid — 
 A shirt — a yellow cord — a king — 
 against the morning sky. 
 
 [81] 
 
THE ROOKIE * 
 
 He carries his gun like a sack of wheat — 
 
 He walks like a load of coal — 
 When they give 'em " About " he prances on 
 
 With an innocent off-shore roll : 
 And " The Top " is willing to bet his pay 
 
 That he hasn't any soul. 
 
 When it comes " Right dress " he looks to the left 
 
 With an asinine pose and face ; 
 And the captain swears and the colonel stares — 
 
 To the company's large disgrace : 
 And the officers' wives and daughters laugh — 
 
 (Which never helps the case). 
 
 He gets some heU at muster — 
 
 He gets more hell at drill — 
 He gets most hell on a bumpety horse 
 
 Whenever he takes a spill: 
 And he's sure to get hell if he talks in his sleep — 
 
 (Oh yes, he most certainly will). 
 
 " A new recruit. 
 
 [22] 
 
I suppose they must have rookies, 
 Though it's horribly hard to see. 
 
 But wait ... If there were no rookies, 
 Just where would the Army be.-* 
 
 And I guess one time the worst in the bunch 
 Was asinine, awkward Me. 
 
 [23J 
 
THE CRUEL AMERICAN SOLDIER 
 
 It's hot and dry, and the tropic sky 
 
 Is a sheet of burnished blue ; 
 And the paddies bare in the stifling air 
 
 Have a sickening, saffron hue. 
 
 And you ride along with never a song, 
 
 With never a quib or jest; 
 Through jungle and vale, o'er hill and dale. 
 
 From valley to mountain crest. 
 
 The parrots white in the dazzling hght. 
 
 Are screeching overhead, 
 And the monkeys chaff and seem to laugh, 
 
 And know you're nearly dead. 
 
 And you've the blues as in "column of twos'' 
 Through the heat and dust you ride. 
 
 No water's nigh, and your canteen's dry. 
 And you're bloody-well starved inside. 
 
 But the day's nigh done, and the setting sun 
 Sinks down in the China Sea, 
 
 [24] 
 
And the first faint breeze through the highest 
 trees 
 Is speaking to you and me. 
 
 And soon we'll hear the balm to the ear, 
 Of "Halt!" « Dismount r» and then — 
 
 But what is this to spoil that bliss 
 To the souls of tired men? 
 
 A body lies 'neath the twilight skies 
 
 Just ahead beside the trail, 
 And hacked and cut in a bloody rut 
 
 Stares up in the daylight pale. 
 
 'Tis a fellow who (a bunkie to you) 
 
 You had talked to in the mom; 
 Now there he lay in the evening gray 
 
 Cut mutilated and torn. 
 
 A month on the trail will seldom fail 
 
 To harden the soul of man, 
 And a friend found dead with a grass-stuffed head. 
 
 To soothe you — it hardly can. 
 
 And the lizards mock in the growing dark. 
 
 And the pale moon laughs in scorn, 
 And the fevered sod bears the curse of God, 
 
 And may claim you ere the mom. 
 [26] 
 
The earth seems black from front to back, 
 
 " God's Country " is far away, 
 Revenge is sweet, and here 'tis mete 
 
 It should come ere another day. 
 
 (one month later.) 
 
 And of course that's how they raised such a row, 
 
 From 'Frisco to Boston-town, 
 And the papers lied and the ladies cried 
 
 For our " poor little brothers brown." 
 
 [26] 
 
THE ARMY GROWL 
 
 Oh beware of the cock that never crows. 
 
 Of the bird without a song; 
 Oh beware of the duck with never a quack — 
 
 There is something radically wrong. 
 
 Oh beware of the dog without a bark. 
 
 Of the snake without a hiss — 
 And — beware of the soldier without a growl — 
 
 Above all remember this. 
 
 He'll growl when he answers reveille, 
 He'll growl when the lamps are lit, 
 
 He'll growl when he has to groom his horse, 
 He'll growl when he " strikes the grit." 
 
 He'll growl 'cause the W. C. T. U. 
 
 Have stolen his booze and beer. 
 And he has to go to a native shack 
 
 For " beno's " poison cheer. 
 
 He'll growl when he's up to his knees in mud. 
 In the paddy's sticky mire; 
 
 [27] 
 
He'll growl 'bout the " niggers " he has to chase 
 'Neath the tropic's scorching fire. 
 
 He'll growl in the rainy season when 
 
 He's wet the live-long day, 
 He'll growl if the weather's hot and dry, 
 
 For the fever's holding sway. 
 
 He'll growl when he's in the " calaboose," 
 
 For getting a little drunk ; 
 He'll growl at the government beans and slum, 
 
 The Java and spuds and punk. 
 
 He'll growl at " the top " whom he doesn't love 
 
 (And the captain on the side). 
 He'll growl about inspections 
 
 And the length of the water ride. 
 
 But — she'll live on " emergency ration," 
 Where the average man would die, 
 
 Or hike all day in a tropic sun 
 Though his throat is hot and dry. 
 
 Or walk his post through the long wet night 
 'Neath the gloom of the dripping palm. 
 
 While the fever's burning his very soul, 
 Though his face is set and calm. 
 
 [28] 
 
Yes — he'll charge 'neath a hotter fire than 
 E'er welcomed the Light Brigade, 
 
 And hold a trench with the easy grace 
 Of militia on parade. 
 
 Or 'tend to a wounded comrade who 
 Has dropped with a shattered knee — 
 
 (And at roll it's "Here" to Bunkie's name 
 If Bunkie is on a spree). 
 
 So give 'im his growl (but don't you howl), 
 
 And let him whene'er he can. 
 For he sure has enough to make him gruff — 
 
 The Regular Army Man. 
 
 * 
 
 Oh beware of the cock that never crows. 
 
 Of the bird without a song; 
 Oh beware of the duck with never a quoQk, 
 
 There is something radically wrong. 
 
 Oh beware of the dog without a barJc, 
 
 Of the snake without a hiss. 
 And — beware of the soldier without a growl — 
 
 Above all remember this. 
 
 P9] 
 
A SOUTHERN PHILIPPINE GUARD 
 
 Did you ever pike a post, 
 When the morn was come almost, 
 And that lonely light to eastward tells the dawning 
 of the day? 
 AU the rest the world's asleep, 
 And the shadows seem most deep. 
 And the Moros of the southern isles turn Mecca- 
 ward to pray. 
 
 Southward toward Celebes, 
 O'er the glassy tropic seas, 
 You can almost smell the spices and the jungle 
 odors rare; 
 And from eastern Mindanao 
 Down to little green Bongao 
 Stately palms are gently swaying in the flower- 
 scented air. 
 
 And you're treading back and forth, 
 Glancing west and south and north, 
 And the faint lights to the eastward mark the 
 mountains' deeper gloom: 
 
 [30] 
 
While upon the coral beach, 
 Twixt the parrots' rising screech, 
 You can hear the steady cadence of the South 
 Sea's surly boom. 
 
 Where the outer shadows meet. 
 
 You may hear the tom-tom's beat 
 From a shack upon the hillside, or the beach a 
 mile away ; 
 
 In the West still reigns the night, 
 
 In the East a pearly light 
 Is proclaiming the approaching of another tropic 
 
 And a hush is on your soul, 
 And the warm sea's silent roll 
 Bears you eastward, eastward, eastward, *cross the 
 leagues of swelling foam ; 
 For you seem to slowly rise, 
 And transported through the skies, 
 You are borne to " God's Country " — ^you are 
 borne back to home. 
 
 Back ten thousand miles to where 
 Lies a green land over there. 
 And the faces and the houses nod and beckon left 
 and right — 
 
 [31] 
 
But a palm-limb's falling thud 
 Checks your dream-enchanted blood — 
 And the parrots screech more loudly, and the 
 world is growing light. 
 
 [32] 
 
HIKING 
 
 Oh, it's hiking, hiking, hiking — ^hiking the live- 
 long day ; 
 And it's pouring, pouring, pouring from the 
 heavens leaden gray; 
 And it's eighty miles from quarters, and eight 
 thousand miles from home ; 
 And you're hungry, wet and tired, and you 
 roam, roam, roam. 
 
 Two good feet deep the waters lie 
 
 In the paddies soggy bare, 
 And two miles high the floods come down 
 
 Through the stifling tropic air. 
 
 And two by two in dun and blue. 
 With shoulders hunched and wet, 
 
 The half -starved troopers sodden ride, 
 On mounts more sodden yet. 
 
 [38] 
 
It's splash and thud and splash and thud, 
 
 All down along the line, 
 ( Cold water's ooze in army shoes 
 
 Is something very fine). 
 
 No pipe will stand a pour like this, 
 No bird dares sing a song. 
 
 No cheerful sound can emanate 
 From that line thin and long. 
 
 The damp winds sneak with sickly shriek 
 Through clumps of bare bamboo. 
 
 And the fire-tree ('twixt thou and me) 
 Is really rather blue. 
 
 " Emergency ration " four days out 
 
 Does fall a trifle flat. 
 And the troop all swear it's chicken-food, 
 
 That's made by Mr. Pratt. 
 
 No booze in sight, no bunk in sight. 
 No chew, no smoke, no sleep. 
 
 And a bunch of " niggers " off a way. 
 There in the jungle deep. 
 
 [34] 
 
They're slippery eels o' summer; 
 
 They hate a krag or " gun," 
 They stab behind (if they've the odds), 
 
 And then they up and run. 
 
 " Amigo " to your face, forsooth, 
 Or when you spend the dough. 
 
 But a red-hand " katipunan " when 
 You turn around to go. 
 
 A score of miles since early mom. 
 
 The same ere close of night, 
 A comrade's life to be avenged, 
 
 A hate both just and right. 
 
 A grumble and a look ahead, 
 A " column right " or " left," 
 
 A low bough hanging o'er the trail, 
 A ducking quick and deft. 
 
 The horse behind is splashing mud 
 Right down your blooming neck. 
 
 And a prickly branch has whipped your side 
 And left your shirt a wreck. 
 
 [35] 
 
Ye gods ! in truth, 'tis warfare this ; 
 
 No charge across a plain — 
 Excitement of the moment 'midst 
 
 The shouts of martial strain. 
 
 But hunt, hunt, hunt, and plod, plod, plod. 
 
 O'er the trail without an end, 
 After the " insurrectos " — 
 
 For that's the word they send 
 
 From " The Palace " in Manila ; 
 
 They've clicked it o'er the wire, 
 And we hit the trail and never fail 
 
 To do as they desire. 
 
 Oh, it's hiking, hiking, hiking — ^hiking the live- 
 long day ; 
 And it's pouring, pouring, pouring from the 
 heavens leaden gray; 
 And it's eighty miles from quarters, and eight 
 thousand miles from home; 
 And you're hungry, wet and tired, and you 
 roam, roam, roam. 
 
 [86] 
 
THE NIGHT REST 
 
 When the first stars light and the gloom of night 
 
 Falls over the paddies bare, 
 When the lizards mock and the mongrels bark, 
 
 And cooler grows the air — 
 
 When the tropic heat has ceased to beat 
 
 With vengeance fierce as fire; 
 And the swaying palm in the growing calm 
 
 Has lulled your tepid ire. 
 
 When you hear the munch and the steady crunch 
 
 Of the horses grazing near ; 
 And the rhythmic tread like mufiled lead 
 
 Of the sentry's pacing drear — 
 
 When you hit the trail till the last lights fail ; 
 
 And you know you've earned a rest ; 
 When the chill night air o'er paddies bare 
 
 Make blankets doubly blest — 
 
 [87] 
 
And the evening breeze — with head at ease 
 
 In a saddle's sunken seat — 
 And you watch afar and greet each star 
 
 As a friend — old, loved, discreet — 
 
 When each bright light in the vaulted night 
 
 Looks down on your fevered face: 
 When you forget the day's regret. 
 
 And your hate for the island race — 
 
 When the monkey's speech and the parrot's screech 
 
 Is hushed till another day ; 
 When the East is black where the bamboos crack, 
 
 And the West has a streak of gray. . . . 
 
 Oh the soothing balm of the quiet calm 
 Of the glorious star-strewn shore; 
 
 And a little space, by Night's good grace. 
 From the scenes of a tropic war. 
 
 [38] 
 
MAIL-DAY IN THE PHILIPPINES 
 
 Clatter, clatter, nearer, nearer, 
 Comes the sound of horses' feet 
 
 From Manila-way ashastening, 
 Down the dusty village street. 
 
 Why from quarters, shacks and stables. 
 Why from near and far away. 
 
 Stream the soldiers shouting welcome 
 To the rider, dusty gray? 
 
 E'en the cook lets drop the ladle. 
 
 Handle first into the slum ; 
 E'en the sick raise on their elbows 
 
 When those clattering hoof -beats come. 
 
 E'en the commissary sergeant. 
 Quick forgetting troubles all, 
 
 Drops " invoices " and " returns," and 
 Comes arunning at the call. 
 
 [39] 
 
While across the way the captain. 
 From his quarters looking o'er, 
 
 Seems impatiently awaiting. 
 Pray what is he looking for? 
 
 Stoops the rider from his saddle, 
 Throwing down a canvas bag. 
 
 Stained and dirty, striped and lettered, 
 " U. S. Mail " (the blessed rag). 
 
 Then the troop-clerk, ostentatious. 
 
 Opens up the bag and then, 
 Crowding round him breathless, noiseless. 
 
 Surge a silent sea of men. 
 
 Standing shoulder rubbing shoulder, 
 Upturned faces anxious drawn, 
 
 Listening for their names and watching 
 'TiU the last white missive's gone. 
 
 Next a scatt'ring back to quarters. 
 Where the bunks are promptly " hit,' 
 
 Then an opening of the letters. 
 Which a month ago were writ. 
 
 [40] 
 
"Broncho" Bill with index-finger 
 Runs along each precious line, 
 
 And a smile is softly growing 
 
 O'er those features rough as pine. 
 
 And " the Kid " has got a photo 
 That he's eyeing awful well, 
 
 'Tis a picture of — oh really, 
 It is hardly fair to tell. 
 
 Private Brown — 'tween slow-turned pages- 
 Stares beyond the paddied line: 
 
 But the blood-pride of the ages 
 Chokes the rising outer sign. 
 
 Sergeant Smith, an old campaigner. 
 Shows with pride a golden curl 
 
 To his bunkie, speaking husky, 
 " From my precious little girl." 
 
 Thompson has a box of candy. 
 
 And his popularity 
 (Which was never much to brag of) 
 
 Has developed wonderfully. 
 
 [41] 
 
" Bowery Pete " quite freely tells you 
 He's a letter from his " goil ; " 
 
 And he'd like to put you next that 
 She is sure a little " poil." 
 
 Little Johnson's reading closely, 
 Little Johnson's eyes are wet, 
 
 Now he's staring out the window, 
 And his look is sort of set. 
 
 Some are laughing, some are eating. 
 Some are reading, some are glad, 
 
 Some are talking, some are singing, 
 Some — well, some look kind of bad. 
 
 [42] 
 
THE BOSOBOSO TRAIL 
 
 Ask the men of " I " troop, 
 
 Ask the men of " L," 
 How they struck the rugged trail 
 
 When the twilight fell. 
 
 White and clear the stars shone 
 In the coming night; 
 
 Westward o'er Manila 
 Lingered yet the light. 
 
 News of trouble spreading 
 'Cross the mountains fast, 
 
 Treacherous Bosoboso 
 Is the culprit last. 
 
 Stable, horse and saddle, 
 Spur and carbine stout; 
 
 Antipolo watching 
 
 As the troops ride out. 
 
 [43] 
 
Black the night falls faster, 
 Black the mountains rise, 
 
 And the forest shutting 
 Out the star-flecked skies. 
 
 Know ye tropic jungles, 
 When the sun is set, 
 
 And the gloom lies heavy. 
 Stifling, black and wet? 
 
 In the light of noon-day 
 Troopers curse and rail 
 
 At the bough-hung, winding 
 Bosoboso trail. 
 
 In the jungle nightfall 
 Naught the eye may see, 
 
 Shelving rock and gulley. 
 Root and bough of tree. 
 
 This the men of " I " troop. 
 And the men of " L," 
 
 Of the good Fifth Cavalry 
 Struck as evening fell. 
 
 [U] 
 
And dismounting each one 
 
 Slowly leads a horse, 
 Grasping tail of beast ahead — 
 
 Plunging o'er the course — 
 
 Chargers tramping on you 
 When the column stops ; 
 
 Straining weary sockets 
 When it forward rocks. 
 
 If you lose your leader — 
 If your footing fail — 
 
 Lost the column plunges 
 From the inky trail. 
 
 In a gloom where owls might 
 
 Hardly hope to see ; 
 Stumbling, crashing over 
 
 Rock and fallen tree. 
 
 'Midst the fevered blackness 
 Of the jungle's heart; 
 
 From all human feelings 
 Tom far apart. 
 
 [45] 
 
Plunging mad and weary, 
 Bruised and full of hate; 
 
 Knowing, caring little 
 
 Where the " umbres " wait. 
 
 Cursing " insurrectos," 
 
 And the lights that fail; 
 
 Cursing low and stoutly 
 Bosoboso's trail. 
 
 [46] 
 
PHILIPPINE TWILIGHT 
 
 Slowly the sun is sinking. 
 
 Slowly the lights grow dim; 
 
 Slowly down in the tropic sea 
 Droppeth the burning rim. 
 
 Slowly the farther islands 
 Melt in the mellow maze ; 
 
 Slowly out on the whitened walls 
 The lizards creep to gaze. 
 
 Slowly the snowy parrots 
 Sweep to their jungle rest. 
 
 Slowly the gold and crimson 
 Fade in the darkening west. 
 
 Slowly the tasseled palm-leaves 
 Sway in the evening breeze. 
 
 Slowly the old familiar stars 
 Rise o'er the tallest trees. 
 
 [47] 
 
Slowly the hike and skirmish, 
 Fever and burning days, 
 
 Treachery, hate and malice, 
 Melt in the evening haze. 
 
 Slowly the Visions wander 
 Over the alien sea — 
 
 Faces and towns and rivers; 
 Known to you and me. 
 
 Slowly they nestle with us. 
 There in the tropic night ; 
 
 Strengthening, soothing, helping, 
 Seeing our three-fold fight. 
 
 Slowly the flaming fire-tree 
 Turns to a sombre pine. 
 
 Slowly the purple clusters 
 Grow on the barren vine. 
 
 Slowly the distant parrots — 
 Specks in the darkening sky — 
 
 Melt into homing swallows. 
 Over the jungle high. 
 
 [48] 
 
Slowly the rice-grown paddies, 
 Wave with the western wheat. 
 
 Slowly the scent of violets 
 Sweetens the humid heat. 
 
 Slowly the clouds rose-tinted 
 Change to the faces we 
 
 Left in a white man's country, 
 Over the ashen sea. 
 
 Slowly the hngering lilac 
 Fades in the western sky : 
 
 Heavy the stifling gloom falls- 
 Night — ^and the Visions die. 
 
 [49] 
 
THE BENO CURSE 
 
 Four we held the lurching litter : 
 Five they held him in his place: 
 
 Dark and crimson, wild and fighting, 
 Bloody eyes and bloated face. 
 
 " 'Nother case," the surgeon muttered. 
 
 When they lifted him abed. 
 Just the " Barbary Coast " of 'Frisco — 
 
 Just a taste of " Dago Red." 
 
 Up the transport's ladder strugghng, 
 Four to one they slip and slide. 
 
 Two steps up, and one returning. 
 Bumping 'gainst the vessel's side : 
 
 Filled with Nagasaki " saki " — 
 
 Swearing, cursing, sweating cold— 
 
 [SO] 
 
Knotted muscles, purple, straining. 
 Roped and thrown down the hold. 
 
 We have seen the curse of nations, 
 'Bove and 'neath the sweltering Line 
 
 Lilac, crimson, white and amber. 
 Dark and murky, crystal fine. 
 
 Juices of the bulb and berry. 
 
 Where the jungle flower grows: 
 
 Blood of palms, slow-tapped and silent, 
 Where the phosphor ocean glows. 
 
 Juices of the grain and vineyard, 
 Sweet and bitter, dark and light ; 
 
 Where the Dipper arches northward, 
 Pale and shining, fair and white. 
 
 But in Beno's grip imprisoned — 
 Water-colored, harmless, clear — 
 
 We have seen the strong men sinking. 
 Month by month and year by year. 
 
 [SI] 
 
We have seen the bronzed campaigner, 
 We have seen the beardless cheek, 
 
 Earn the eyes that lack the lustre, 
 Lose the lips that mark the weak. 
 
 We have seen the hands of giants 
 Tremble like a child with chills. 
 
 Till, befuddled, wan and wandering, 
 Crazed, they sought the silent hills. 
 
 (Yes, we know them east and westward. 
 Amber, crimson, white and clear: 
 
 Yes, we've seen the fiends incarnate 
 Lift the burning levels near) : 
 
 But, we've watched the silent sinking. 
 Day by day the seasons through; 
 
 We have seen the slow damnation: 
 (Beno, here's a health to you!) 
 
 [52] 
 
SOMEONE'S GOT A MANDOLIN 
 
 (PHILIPPINE TEANSPOB.T BALLAD ) 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin — over by the raU: 
 Jolly little tinkler talks most surprising plain: 
 
 " You've done your work — in fact — done it rather 
 well; 
 And now you're really honest truly going home 
 
 Dusk is slowly settling and we're loafing on the 
 deck, 
 Looking most contented out across the leaden 
 sea. 
 Duty done and getting dark — (rather dark for 
 cards) — 
 And just a line of lazy smoke aroUing by the lee. 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin — over by the rail : 
 
 (Funny how a mandolin can search a soldier's 
 soul) : 
 
 [68] 
 
Kind of up and talks to you when day begins to 
 fail, 
 And you're heading homeward on the long 
 Pacific roll. 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin — over by the rail : 
 
 Tinkling of the days behind — ^the skirmish in 
 the rain — 
 Soggy paddies full of rice and nlpa shacks and 
 palms — 
 " Humbres " given to the ants and " humbres " 
 you've slain. 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin — over by the rail : 
 
 Seems to sort of sing along with flying-fish and 
 foam: 
 Kind of makes you blink a bit — (it's cinders from 
 the stack) — 
 And jingles mighty plainly of the people over 
 home. 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin — over by the rail : 
 Jolly little mandolin — crazy little soul: 
 Says the salt air's eating out the fever in our 
 bones — 
 Mustn't mind at lacking thirty pounds o' being 
 whole, 
 
 [54] 
 
Someone's got a mandolin — over by the rail : 
 
 Singing we're heading east to where God's Coun- 
 try lies: 
 
 Laughing we'll fatten-up on tenderloin and milk, 
 Canvasback and terrapin, batter-cakes and pies. 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin — over by the rail : 
 
 Plaintive little mandolin — sort o' soft and low — 
 
 Says in just a little while we'll see 'em all again — 
 Mustn't fret because the transport's running 
 rather slow. 
 
 (" Mustn't fret, no mustn't fret," — ^the flying- 
 fish reply, 
 " Though you left him buried there behind the 
 bare bamboo " : 
 " Mustn't fret, no mustn't fret "—the little white- 
 caps cry, 
 " But gulp it down and think about the ones 
 awaiting you "). 
 
 Someone's got a mandolin^ — over by the rail : 
 
 Laughing up the leaden lift and sighing down 
 the roU — 
 Other days and other ways — ahead, astern, adrift — 
 Is it wood and strings or has the chubby thing a 
 soul? 
 
 [55] 
 
Someone's got a mcmdolm — over by the rail: 
 
 Jolly little tinkler talks most surprising plain: — 
 " You've done your work — in fact — done it rather 
 
 And now you're really honest truly going home 
 
 [56] 
 
THE ISLANDS' HAND 
 
 Five thousand miles they've left them 
 O'er phosphor-streaking ocean; 
 Five thousand miles of rollers, 
 
 And flying-fish and whale; 
 And gulls around the topmast 
 And sharks around the rudder — 
 And sixteen days of steaming 
 
 With never sight of sail. 
 
 Two years — or five — or twenty 
 This side the sunset ocean ; 
 Two years — or five — or twenty 
 
 They've left the Islands' care. 
 Men call them hale and hearty — 
 And laugh about the Islands; 
 (Men laugh about the Islands 
 
 Who've never soldier'd there.) 
 
 Men caU them " health's reflection," 
 And joke of their " excursion," 
 For they're strong and hardy 
 And lift the hours through. 
 
 [67] 
 
Though of those who've trailed the Islands 
 With the fever eating inward, 
 They're little asking sympathy 
 Of little thinking you. 
 
 But the Islands' hand is on them, 
 (Be the cycles two or twenty — 
 And the span of buffer ocean 
 
 Five thousand miles between) ; 
 When the days are running lightest — 
 And life is worth the living. 
 The Islands' hand descendeth — 
 
 Dull-throbbing — sharp and keen. 
 
 Unpensioned — undesiring — 
 They're smiling in your faces ; 
 They're jesting, dancing, laughing — 
 
 With the old ache burning there. 
 It will lift — mayhap — to-morrow — 
 To return when unexpected ; 
 To return when least desired. 
 
 Just to smite you unaware. 
 
 Five thousand miles of ocean. 
 And the buifer years aroUing, 
 And the silent seasons waking 
 In the Land of Little Care: 
 
 [S8] 
 
Men call them hale and hearty — 
 And laugh about the Islands: 
 (Men laugh about the Islands 
 Who've never soldier'd there.) 
 
 [«8] 
 
« TAPS " 
 
 We've heard it in the mountains, 
 
 We've heard it in the vale, 
 We've heard it in the times of peace. 
 
 And when the war-dogs trail. 
 We've heard it in the jungle, 
 
 We've heard it on the snows, 
 We've heard it — ^yes — 'most everywhere. 
 
 And we love it — God knows. 
 
 We've heard it, and it stood for 
 
 A little rest and sleep, 
 When the twinkling sentries overhead 
 
 Their " post " and " orders " keep. 
 When the great war-god Orion 
 
 Looked down from out the night, 
 And bade us think of those at home 
 
 Beneath another light. 
 
 We've heard it when we bivouacked 
 
 Behind the day's alarm : 
 We've heard it when we buried him 
 
 Beneath the tropic palm : 
 [60] 
 
We've heard it on the transport. 
 We've heard it on the plain, 
 
 We've heard it in the islands 
 'Midst the fever and the rain. 
 
 We've heard it — and the ringing 
 
 Down through the countless years, 
 Will take us back to war and strife, 
 
 To love and joy and tears. 
 And when the Last Great Muster 
 
 Shall find us on the roll, 
 We hope they're blowing Taps again- 
 
 To speed a soldier's soul. 
 
 [61] 
 
THE REGULAR CAVALREE 
 
 Eyes and ears of the army, 
 Galloping wild and free, 
 Feelers and nerves of the central head, 
 Muddy and swearing and spattered red 
 With blood of the wounded and dying and dead. 
 The Regular Cavalree, Hurrah! 
 The Regular Cavalree! 
 
 Flanking the battery's belching blaze. 
 
 Crash! and the gunners flee: 
 Then — off — and away we go — 
 Down on the infantry's flanks we blow — 
 Pistol and sabre laying them low — 
 The Regular Cavalree, Hurrah! 
 The Regular Cavalree! 
 
 Watch the troop-train passing by. 
 
 Up from the port of the sea; 
 Down like the eagle in swiftest flight — 
 Sweeping the plain in our gallant might, 
 
 [62] 
 
And the enemy curse for their fast to-night — 
 The Regular Cavalree, Hurrah! 
 The Regular Cavalree! 
 
 Dripping palm and tropic sun, 
 
 (Remembered by you and me), 
 Riding the trails we learned to hate — 
 " Emergency Rations " ten days straight — 
 And the fever that cometh soon or late — 
 To the Regular Cavalree, Hurrah! 
 The Regular Cavalree ! 
 
 Pennsylvania Avenue, 
 
 The Great Man's escort we ; 
 Polished and clanking and looking our best, 
 Cursing the work for a beastly pest; 
 The pride of the Nation are riding abreast — 
 The Regular Cavalree, Hurrah! 
 The Regular Cavalree ! 
 
 [68] 
 
GENERAL NELSON A. MILES * 
 
 Mighty scribes of inky prowess, mighty generals of 
 the pen, 
 
 From your fortress desks ye've hurtled, 'gainst a 
 splendid man of men, 
 
 All your quibs and shafts of laughter, all your 
 venom small and mean. 
 
 To amuse a certain public, slandering, but yet un- 
 seen. 
 
 When ye fed upon a bottle, when ye walked the 
 
 city street. 
 When ye lived in ease and comfort, speeding 
 
 pleasure's hours fleet. 
 When ye led the light cotillion, when ye ate three 
 
 " squares " a day. 
 When at ball, in gold and medals, ye were flirting 
 
 hours away, 
 
 •On his retirement. 
 
 [64] 
 
He was fighting where the slaughter of a brothers' 
 
 war ran high, 
 On those crimson fields of horror, 'neath a sunny 
 
 southern sky. 
 He was chasing the Apache 'cross the choking 
 
 khaki plain. 
 In the land of rock and sage-brush, alkali and little 
 
 rain. 
 
 He — as the commanding general — in his later hon- 
 ored days. 
 
 Held the rank, but hampered ever — snub and 
 censure — seldom praise. 
 
 Misdemeanor or dishonor at his door was never 
 lain. 
 
 But ye dig your quills the deeper, shrieking, 
 "Vain! Ambitious! Vain!" 
 
 Ask the brown and hardened trooper dating back 
 to Wounded Knee, 
 
 Ask the old who fought in '60, ask the young across 
 the sea. 
 
 They will answer, for they know him — tempered — 
 tested — tried and true — 
 
 Honor to his flag and country and the blood- 
 bathed army blue. 
 
 5 [&S\ 
 
THE EX-SOLDIER'S TRIP BACK 
 
 Five thousand miles from the latest styles, 
 And the grind and the thumping roar, 
 
 And the lucre race and the thin-souled face. 
 And the lust of more and more. 
 
 Five thousand miles, where the shack-topped piles 
 
 Stand out in the open bay: 
 And the fish traps reach from the coral beach 
 
 To the up-coast current's sway. 
 
 We'll go again to the sun and rain — 
 To the flood and the river drouth — 
 
 To the broken seas and the scented breeze 
 And the Cross in the vaulted south. 
 
 In the darkened gloom of the jungle tomb, 
 Where the f ern-crotched giants spread — 
 
 And the trailing vine and the branches twine 
 We'll waken the echoes dead. 
 
 [66] 
 
We'll answer the screech of the parrot's speech- 
 And the ape in the highest limb; 
 
 As he swings in the air we scarcely care 
 To scorn or pity him. 
 
 We'll lie in the sift of the sandy drift 
 Where the beach is white and wide; 
 
 Stark naked there in the soothing air 
 By the wash of the pearl-flecked tide. 
 
 We'll laugh in ease as the tasseled trees 
 Throw shadows across the sand — 
 
 We'll shout in glee to the dancing sea, 
 And the hours out-of-hand. 
 
 We'll ride the trails when the sunset fails 
 'Twixt the isles of the farther west; 
 
 And the clumped bamboo that the winds sift 
 through 
 As they lag from the highest crest. 
 
 We'll scent the must of the paddies' dust — 
 
 (Remembering labors old) — 
 We'll feel the heat of the village street 
 
 When the skies are copper-gold. 
 [67] 
 
When the day is done we'll watch the sun 
 
 Sink down in a gilded sea; 
 And the saffron sky fade out and die 
 
 And the crimson embers flee. 
 
 While the lizards mock in the sultry dark 
 
 From under the nipa eaves, 
 We'll laugh again with the homeless men, 
 
 Ere the north-bound mail-boat leaves. 
 
 When the lights are low and the phosphor glow 
 
 Is washing the outer piers — 
 We'll gaze afar o'er the wave-kissed bar. 
 
 And dream of the distant years. 
 
 The former days and the former ways — 
 And the strong and the weak we knew- 
 
 Each little thing the old sights bring 
 With the soft Trades sifting through. 
 
 The last lights fail o'er the well-known trail: 
 
 We'll see it all again 
 Through the crowding years of smiles and tears, 
 
 The blue and the white-clothed men : 
 
 [68] 
 
(The month-long chase of the islanid race 
 
 That stab by dark and fly, 
 The running fight and the watching night 
 
 And the shadows ghding by.) 
 
 The sough of the trees in the evening breeze — 
 
 The distant tom-tom's beat — 
 The chill of the rain on the rice-soaked plain, 
 
 And the stench of the village street. 
 
 We'U walk once more onUhe coral shore, 
 'Neath the blaze of the copper skies : 
 
 We'll hear again the weird refrain 
 
 Where the shack in the palm-grove lies. 
 
 We'll live the ways of the yesterdays — 
 
 Each sound and scent and sight : 
 Though cynics deride, we are satisfied 
 
 Our choice is made aright. 
 
 [68] 
 
MAJOR SOUR 
 
 If any doubt this little tale. 
 Some several hundred men, 
 
 Ascattered through this lovely land 
 WUl prove the writer's pen. 
 
 Once in the far-famed Philippines, 
 When war was sometimes rife, 
 
 There reigned an army officer, 
 Who dearly loved his life. 
 
 He held a little four-walled town, 
 And kept it neat and clean : 
 
 But when the soldiers hit the hills— 
 His Grace was seldom seen. 
 
 Now Major Sour was a man 
 Large-bellied, bold and grand; 
 
 With whiskers white and haughty mien 
 That spake, " I rule the land." 
 
 [70] 
 
He regulated what should be 
 
 The market-price of fruit : 
 Which way the inside gate-guard faced 
 
 When making his salute. 
 
 (And let us pause to here remark, 
 
 With no equivocations, 
 His law upon the latter was 
 
 Opposed to "Regulations"). 
 
 He worried lest a Moro kid 
 
 Should 'neath his jacket hold 
 
 A mango knife — or opium 
 For Chinos bad and bold. 
 
 He toadied to the Sultan 
 Lest any harm draw near — 
 
 And bound poor little Jolo down 
 From land-gates to the pier. 
 
 He fretted lest the weeds should grow 
 Within the flowered park. 
 
 And had his vigilantes guard 
 His door-steps after dark. 
 
 [71] 
 
And if a Moro, through the wall, 
 Stood looking rather grim. 
 
 Three companies and gatHngs twain 
 Were straightway hurled at him. 
 
 But when the soldiers left the town, 
 He kept behind a guard; 
 
 And trembling (for his army's fate), 
 He paced Headquarter's yard. 
 
 Oh Major Sour, when we stop 
 To think of you — we're fain 
 
 To hold our splitting sides with mirth, 
 And laugh and laugh again. 
 
 [72] 
 
ARMY BEANS 
 
 You may dilly-dally knife and fork 
 In delicacies delicious, 
 And in pat^, duck and terrapin and know if they're 
 right. 
 You may criticise — expostulate — 
 And figit with your oysters, 
 While yearning dishes for a satiated appetite. 
 
 Army Beans.? Oh they're vulgar — 
 Pos-i-tive-ly really common — 
 In fact they're most plebeian — ^if you hanker for 
 the truth. 
 So very inexpensive, 
 
 And the recipe is simple; 
 For they bake and ship 'em 'round the world to 
 feed the Great Uncouth. 
 
 Well, dander with your " delicacies " — 
 Of course, you're welcome to *em — 
 But sometimes when it seems to me I kind o' want a 
 "feed": 
 
 [78] 
 
I go and order army beans — 
 
 A soup-plate full and brumning — 
 And — ^if you think it dreadful — ^why you needn't 
 look, indeed. 
 
 They're brown and plump and steaming — 
 They're luscious, large and lovely — 
 And the restaurant and waiters slowly melt and 
 fade away: 
 And a hazy shadow's rising 
 Like a mirage on the ocean — 
 It's a palm-grove gently bending o'er a coral-bitten 
 bay. 
 
 And the flying-fish are flitting 
 In and out the rain-bow waters. 
 And the beach is white and gleaming 'neath an 
 empty purple sky : 
 And the tasseled fronds are droning 
 
 Through the endless end-world stillness, 
 'Till the night-wind's weary wailing wakes the tom- 
 tom's deep reply. 
 
 'Till the yellow grass is rustling 
 With the feet of fifty horses — 
 'Till fifty weary troopers drop from fifty weary 
 backs : 
 
 [74] 
 
And fifty hungry, munching mouths, 
 (Just barring-out the sentries). 
 Are stuffed and crammed with army beans exuding 
 from the cracks. 
 
 Yes — ^they've stood us rather handy 
 In the lurching transport galley: 
 Yes — they've stood us rather neatly — 'neath the 
 fern-crotched jungle trees: 
 On mountain trail, in paddy vale. 
 
 And through the shack-rimmed alley; 
 In cholera camp and bivouac, where falls the fe- 
 vered breeze. 
 
 They've sought the deepest crevices — 
 'Tween ribs we saw and counted: 
 Though vulgar, coarse and common they've backed 
 us in a need: 
 And the flavor and the savor 
 Sort o' bring a funny quaver — 
 And I think as no one's looking — I'U sneak in a 
 while and " feed." 
 
 [75] 
 
BUGLES CALLING 
 
 Up above the roaring traffic — 
 
 Where the caverns rise — 
 Shrill and piercing, clear and cutting, 
 
 Through the smoky skies — 
 Bugles callimg, bugles callmg. 
 
 Over land and sea — 
 Bugles callmg, calling, callmg. 
 
 Bugles callmg me. 
 
 Little men and Uttle madness — 
 
 Sordid greed and gain — 
 Till we hear the bugles leaping 
 
 Down the asphalt lane: 
 Till the reeking towers vanish 
 
 And the winds waft free, 
 Bugles calling, calling, callimg. 
 
 Bugles callimg me. 
 
 Once again famihar faces 
 
 Beckon o'er the ways; 
 Once again with stirrups touching 
 
 Ride the yesterdays. 
 [76] 
 
Olden friends and love and laughter- 
 Proved sincerity 
 
 Bugles calling, callmg, caUmg, 
 Bugles callmg me. 
 
 Once again the trails are burning 
 
 'Neath a tropic sun: 
 Once again the plains are baking 
 
 Where no rivers run : 
 Once again the old ambitions 
 
 Whisper longingly 
 
 Bugles calling, calling, calling. 
 
 Bugles calling me. 
 
 Once again the vine-choked jungle 
 
 'Bove the swollen stream — 
 Once again the silken rustle 
 
 Where the bamboos gleam: 
 Once again the snowy coral 
 
 Laughing by the sea 
 
 Bugles calling, calling, calling. 
 
 Bugles calling me. 
 
 Once again the running skirmish 
 
 'Neath the mid-day glare : 
 Once again the midnight mountains 
 
 When the fires flare: 
 
 [77] 
 
Once again the careless columns 
 Laughing wearily 
 
 Bugles caUimg, calling, ccdlmg. 
 Bugles calling me. 
 
 By the high-hoped days behind us- 
 
 By the years we knew — 
 By the heart-whole life they lent us, 
 
 Ringing fair and true 
 
 Bugles calling, bugles calling. 
 
 Over lamd and sea — 
 Bugles calling — calling — calling — 
 
 Bugles calling me. 
 
 [78] 
 
HEROES 
 
 Here and there and everywhere — 
 
 Ever the story's told : 
 By pen and tongue their song is sung, 
 
 As is your want of old 
 Your want is good — though ye forget 
 
 The nameless manifold. 
 
 But the ofF-shore breeze of the silent seas 
 Is whispering through the night; 
 
 And if you list to the tree-tops' tryst — 
 And if you hear aright — 
 
 You'll learn again through the wind and rain 
 The tale of the distant fight. 
 
 You'll know once more the cannons' roar 
 And the flare of the long lean guns: 
 
 You'll watch them fall by the outer wall 
 Where the red-choked river runs: 
 
 You'll see them die as the lines roar by — 
 The bravest of our sons. 
 
 [79] 
 
Go where the sage-brush dots the plain 
 
 White-parched with alkali — 
 And the thin coyote and the tumbled rock 
 
 And the burning copper sky — 
 To Apache and Comanche who 
 
 Can show you where they lie. 
 
 Go skirt the East to the outer isles, 
 And the blaze of the fire-tree — 
 
 And the swaying palm and the coral beach 
 And the lift of the flame-streaked sea — 
 
 To where the bare bamboos stand guard 
 Through all eternity. 
 
 By rock-boimd plain and heat-bound trail 
 And the stench of the paddies' mire ; 
 
 By blizzard blast and blazing sun, 
 And the tropic's fevered fire — 
 
 Unmarked they lie beneath the sky 
 To prove The Strong Desire. 
 
 [80] 
 
AN EXILE 
 
 He's looking out across the bay 
 
 Where the sunset fires fail — 
 He's staring far behind the hiUs 
 
 Beyond the Outer Pale — 
 He's put his world behind him in 
 
 The East-bound steamer's trail. 
 
 The fetid heat— the fetid Kfe— 
 
 The fetid fever too — 
 The long checked paddy stretches, 
 
 And the quivering dome of blue — 
 The creeping carabao sledge, 
 
 And the shacks of split bamboo. 
 
 He cannot tell the Occident 
 
 The feelimg of the East. 
 He can't describe the deathly calm 
 
 When every wind has ceased 
 And the lizards crawl through the nipa wall 
 
 To snatch their living feast. 
 
 i [81] 
 
He can't describe the stillness 
 
 Of the endless tropic day. 
 He's 'most forgotten there's a land 
 
 Where people really pray. 
 He only knows the brazen heat 
 
 And the careless, calm dismay. 
 
 The parrots mock him overhead — 
 
 The lizards 'neath the eave — 
 The fever calls him for her own — 
 
 (She never will deceive) — 
 And the days are months and the months are years 
 
 That scorn /the last reprieve. 
 
 Then — if you have a soul at all — 
 
 And if you ever Care — 
 And if you have a little time — 
 
 (Which you can surely spare) — 
 For God's sake drop a letter to 
 
 An exile over there. 
 
 [82] 
 
THE MACHINE GUN 
 
 I'm watching how the gallant lines 
 Come bravely forging forward: 
 I gurgle with the gunner filling breech and taking 
 sight : 
 And when the long flat fronts appear 
 At just the proper distance, 
 They let me loose — and none go back to boast 
 about the fight. 
 
 I'm spitting through the tropic gloom — 
 The fever-laden stillness — 
 I hew the lean, swarth runners down behind the 
 
 bare bamboo 
 
 I strew them thick across the deck 
 In reeking, writhing torture, 
 And stop the final struggles with an extra shot or 
 two. 
 
 I'm landing with the first marines — 
 They couldn't do without me — 
 I open up an alley from the water to the town. 
 
 [83] 
 
I clear the roofs and gates and walls — 
 No hidden hole escapes me — 
 And then I take a breath and watch the colors 
 coming down. 
 
 I'm sweeping o'er the charging plain — 
 The brave and young and careless — 
 I drop them gently over like the grass beneath 
 
 the scythe 
 
 I'm shrieking down the fighting-tops 
 To catch the hidden gunners, 
 For the demon blood is in me and I love to see 
 them die. 
 
 I'm choking up the narrow pass — 
 The narrow pass before me — 
 Awhile the pallid peaks peer down in horror and 
 dismay : 
 Leonidas and every band 
 In history or in story, 
 They could not hold the red defile as I hare done 
 to-day. 
 
 The loosened rock, the boomerang, 
 The sword and lance and arrow — 
 The dagger, pike and hand-grenade — the arquebus 
 and gun — 
 
 [84] 
 
I trace a lineage long and proud 
 That man has hewn for me — 
 And now I stand the Lord of War, blood-reeking 
 'neath the sun. 
 
 [83] 
 
REGULAR AND MILITIAMAN 
 
 THE MILITIAMAN SPEAKS 
 
 You're really most unpolished and 
 
 You seem a trifle tough; 
 Your ways are not the ways of us — 
 
 You're rather brief and bluff. 
 Your uniform is awfully plain — 
 
 Your campaign hat's a sight — 
 Your leggings they are washed until 
 
 You've bleached 'em nearly white. 
 
 And some of you tobacco chew! 
 
 And smoke and drink and swear ! 
 And sit a horse or caisson just 
 
 As if you " didn't care." 
 You lack the really proper stride, 
 
 And cut and dress and style — 
 And seldom (but among yourselves) 
 
 You speak or joke or smile. 
 
 THE KE6ULAB ANSWEUS 
 
 Yes Handsome Harry with your stride 
 And military air — 
 
 [86] 
 
Your waving plume and corded coat, 
 And trousers pressed with care; 
 
 Your well-provisioned summer camp, 
 For ladies' lavish praise — 
 
 Or prancing aft a braying band 
 Adown the curb-stoned ways. 
 
 Perhaps we are a little tanned — 
 
 A little careless too — • 
 Perhaps you've said a trifle that 
 
 Is really rather true; 
 But come with us and live with us, 
 
 And march and laugh and cry ; 
 And joke with us and hate with us. 
 
 And fight and starve and die. 
 
 Come where the same low rolling plains. 
 
 The same old sky Hnes meet ; 
 The same old rock and sage-brush hide 
 
 The same old gila's feet ; 
 The same coyote's nerve-piercing note. 
 
 When the copper skies turn blue ; 
 And the same parade and guard and drill, 
 
 The long long seasons through. 
 
 Come where beneath the dripping palms 
 The stinking marshes rise; 
 
 [87] 
 
Across the trampled paddies 'neath 
 
 The burning tropic skies. 
 Beyond the farther ocean when 
 
 The lines of phosphor glow — 
 To where the pale and mighty Cross 
 
 Reflects the southern snow. 
 
 To where the careless combers o'er 
 
 The coral caverns roll; 
 To where the fetid fever burns 
 
 Your head and heart and soul. 
 To where the laws of God and man — 
 • Of truth and faith and right — 
 Are churned with Asian guilt and guile, 
 
 Starvation, march, and fight. 
 
 If you would up and go with us 
 
 Across the sunset sea — 
 If you would taste a bit of it 
 
 With careless, candid We; 
 If you would buckle-up with us 
 
 In mud and alkali — 
 You'd learn a soldier's answer, and — 
 
 You'd know the reasons why. 
 
 [88] 
 
THE NEWER SCHOOL OF POETRY 
 
 The men of the Newer School — ^All hail! 
 
 That race with the roaring flood, 
 The men of the newer living school, 
 
 That quicken the slackened blood. 
 
 The men of the Older School — for they 
 
 The overcultured few — 
 The long ambiguous drawn lines 
 
 Of pale aesthetic hue. 
 
 The slaves of meter, who sacrifice 
 
 For a technically perfect stress 
 The salt and the savor — the blood and the iron — 
 
 Of things we love and bless. 
 
 The poets erratic, pedantic and strange. 
 
 Uncanny — unkempt — uncouth — 
 With songs of the seasons and flowers and love. 
 
 Or a deep and unfathomable truth, 
 
 [89] 
 
So here's to the men of the quickening pulse — 
 
 The newer and stronger school: 
 And here's to the songs of the living world — 
 
 Past cant and the pedagogue rule. 
 
 To the men of the Newer School — ^AU hail! 
 
 From the Horn to the Naked Naze: 
 With the breath of the brine in every line, 
 
 As the feathering combers raise. 
 
 With the scent of the flowers among the palms 
 
 When the cockatoo homeward flies: 
 Or the moan of the pine 'neath the Arctic line, 
 
 When the shuddering daylight dies. 
 
 They're bending the Poles to the burning Belt, 
 
 For the eyes of the lesser blest; 
 With a mightier girth they girdle the earth, 
 
 And the peoples of East and West. 
 
 The men of the Newer School — ^All hail ! 
 
 From the Gulf to the Baltic Sea: 
 The men of the Newer School, dear boys. 
 
 For stupid old you and me. 
 
 [90] 
 
WAR 
 
 And shall we have eternal peace — 
 
 Will yet the nations stand 
 Unarmed through endless eons on, 
 
 Bound hearts and hand to hand? 
 The question rang through timeless space, 
 
 And the outer answer came 
 Through spaceless time the droning rhyme 
 
 The answer and the blame: 
 
 So long as the stately Cross stands south 
 
 And the Dipper swmgs the north. 
 So long will the Yotmg Men leap afresh 
 
 When the war drums rattle forth. 
 New life — new love — new blood — new hope — 
 
 And the skies are leaden rain — 
 But ever they rush where the front limes crush 
 
 Again and yet agam. 
 
 And we caught the solemn whisper 
 Through the drift of the driven roar, 
 
 And we let them prattle lasting peace, 
 We knew the answer — ^War. 
 
 [91] 
 
And we watched the riven country 
 
 Weld fast at the outer breath — 
 And we saw brave eyes 'neath shot-swept skies- 
 
 And we bowed to embattled Death. 
 
 When the cave-man killed his brother. 
 When the tribes slew one another. 
 When the glaciers first receded 
 
 It was war. 
 As it was in the begimmimg — 
 We have heard the prophets singing — 
 As it was in the begvnmmg. 
 
 And shall be forevermore. 
 
 [92] 
 
MUSIC 
 
 'Twixt God and Man a closer span. 
 
 Half human half divine: 
 The lilt that lies beyond the skies 
 
 To lift us o'er the Line. 
 Both last and first to quench the thirst 
 
 With long forsaken thought; 
 And lure us there in higher air, 
 
 Where noble deeds are wrought. 
 
 To buoy youth with stronger truth, 
 
 And large ambition's fire: 
 To help the weak repentance seek, 
 
 And strengthen good desire : 
 To bring us back o'er trail and track, 
 
 O'er mountain, gulf and sea. 
 The mellow haze of other days 
 
 Now lost to you and me. 
 
 [93] 
 
THE MILLIONAIRES 
 
 He died — The trumpets woke the hills — 
 
 The clarion voices sang. 
 From east and west and south and north 
 
 The world-wide echoes rang — 
 " Financial King — Philanthropist — 
 
 ' Power ' and Millionaire " — 
 But the Guardian Angel saw him not 
 
 As he was passing there. 
 
 He died — No echo woke the hills — 
 
 The World was mute and still. 
 None talked of his philanthropy — 
 
 (None heard or ever will). 
 But the Guardian Angel greeting gave, 
 
 And the dwellers over there 
 With eyes adim they welcomed him 
 
 For Heaven's millionaire. 
 
 [94] 
 
JOGGINS 
 
 Now Joggins wrought a wondrous scheme 
 Most perfect, wise and great — 
 
 To transport logs by the open sea, 
 South-bound and scorning freight. 
 
 So log by log and chain by chain 
 
 He lashed the timbers tight, 
 And Nova Scotia bade God-speed 
 
 As it cleared the farthest light. 
 
 And Joggins watched the vast beast bend 
 
 On the tops of the tipsy sea. 
 And Joggins heard the crunching roar 
 
 Like giants in agony. 
 
 And through the long black endless nights 
 
 He saw it sink and rise; 
 He saw it roll on the smooth-backed swell 
 
 Or lash 'neath the storm-swept skies. 
 
 [95] 
 
He saw it crumple and straighten back. 
 
 And rush and jam again; 
 And he felt the laugh from the distant shore 
 
 The scorn of his fellowmen. 
 
 But the many-bodied monster held 
 
 'Neath the curb of the crackling chain, 
 
 And the distant port was sighted now. 
 The sunshine after rain. 
 
 When, the sea rose high in its ancient might — 
 
 As the sea is wont to do — 
 And it watched the jam roll snug and tight 
 
 For the harbor headed true: 
 
 And the sea in anger snapped the chains 
 And flung the great logs wide — 
 
 And the world derisive, laughed again — 
 It laughed — and Joggins cried. 
 
 They hammered around the beetling Horn 
 In the teeth of the polar hail — 
 
 They drifted along by the ice-bound coast 
 In the shriek of the frozen gale. 
 
 [96] 
 
Slowly but sure as the days endure 
 
 They crept to the tropic calm; 
 They lolled and rolled in the gold-streaked sea 
 
 By the fire-tree and palm. 
 
 They buckled back on a sightless track 
 
 Past Behring's lonely grave — 
 They prodded and rammed in the coast-wise drift 
 
 Where the North Lights leap and wave. 
 
 They turned again by the Spanish Main 
 
 And the isles of hidden gold; 
 They ran the Pillars of Hercules 
 
 To the lands that were of old. 
 
 They weathered the cape of the chattering ape — 
 They weathered the ice-bound floe — 
 
 And the upright penguin looked askance, 
 Surprised to see them go. 
 
 By Dipper and Cross and never a loss 
 They rolled with the ocean breeze — 
 
 By the Four Great Points they swept around 
 On the breast of the far-flung seas. 
 
 TiU a message flashed — " Note ye the place 
 That a log is seen of you : " 
 
 7 [97] 
 
And mariners marked the time and clime, 
 As they were told to do. 
 
 And scholars scanned the rude reports 
 
 Astreak with dirt and oil — 
 And lastly learned a lesson as 
 
 Reward of patient toil. 
 
 And they made a map of the mighty seas, 
 And stretched from shore to shore 
 
 They drew mysterious arrowed lines, 
 (Where nought had been before). 
 
 That stole around by the Arctic night, 
 
 And down to the coral strand; 
 That swept again o'er the open main — 
 
 Uniting land and land. 
 
 That weathered the cape of the chattering ape 
 That weathered the ice-bound floe — 
 
 And the upright penguin looked askance — 
 But failed to see them go. 
 
 So ships that haste from shore to shore, 
 Pursue the hidden tide; 
 
 [98] 
 
And the world derisive laughs no more — 
 That laughed — ^when Joggins cried. 
 
 For ships that haste from shore to shore, 
 They foUow the arrows' straint: 
 
 And Joggins a human failure^ — 
 Is Joggins a patron saint. 
 
 [99] 
 
THE SONG OF THE BATTLESHIP 
 
 This is the song of the battleship — 
 
 King of the fighting line — 
 Broad and huge and massive. 
 
 Ploughing the white-fleclced brine: 
 Rolling the coal black clouds abaft. 
 
 Belching fire and flame — 
 Death and red destruction for 
 
 The honor of our name. 
 
 Oh the cruiser's mighty speedy, 
 And she can show her heels, 
 
 But a rattling rapid motion — 
 / don't know how it feels. 
 
 The cruiser she is graceful. 
 And long and high and fine, 
 
 But I'm the column's mainstay — 
 
 The hull-dog of the line. 
 
 Torpedo-boats and submarines 
 They flash and dart and glide; 
 
 They plunge and hit and get away. 
 They break the battle's tide ; 
 
 [100] 
 
They carry death's destruction, 
 
 They fight like little men, 
 But when they have to cut and run — 
 
 They seek my turrets, then. 
 
 The grey-hounds and the hornets 
 
 They scout and chase and fight; 
 We could not do without them 
 
 In the daytime or the night. 
 But the back-bone of the battle. 
 
 When the twelve-inch ravens fly. 
 Is where beneath my fighting-tops 
 
 You hear the battle-cry. 
 
 You see my low round turrets 
 
 Hurl flame and shot and shell — 
 You see through torn side and deck 
 
 My boilers' gaping hell — 
 You hear the roar and thunder 
 
 Of " six " and " eight " and " ten "— 
 You hear the cheer of victory — 
 
 The prayers of dying men. 
 
 And when the last faint echo 
 
 Has sped across the sea. 
 And when the last war-clouds have rolled 
 
 Abaft the squadron's lee, 
 
 [101] 
 
They pat me and they praise me, 
 And they say things large and fine — 
 
 To the ugly broad and stumpy 
 Fighting bull-dog of the line. 
 
 This is the song of the battleship — 
 
 A floating fortress great; 
 Massive, snarling, smoke-begrimed — 
 
 Defender of the State: 
 Lord of the red-embattled foam — 
 
 Kimg of the crimsoned seas — 
 Where'er the conquering Stars and Stripes 
 
 Are flung to the battle breeze. 
 
 [102] 
 
AROLAS AT JOLO 
 
 (a teue tale) 
 
 Hated by those in power high, 
 
 In the land that gave me birth, 
 They hunted the countries of East and West 
 
 For the vilest hole on earth. 
 
 They could not kill me there and then, 
 
 Without the large offence. 
 So they sought for the sickliest spot they knew, 
 
 And quickly sent me thence. 
 
 Then in Madrid they laughed and sneered. 
 And wagered their plundered gold. 
 
 On the number of months or weeks or days 
 From the fever's grip I'd hold. 
 
 And it grew to a joke on the laughing lips 
 Of the dukes and the high grandees. 
 
 Of the new command the king had found 
 For me in the phosphor seas. 
 
 [103] 
 
Far down in the south of the Philippines, 
 
 On the coast of a fevered isle, 
 In the midst of the stench of a jungle-swamp, 
 
 In the heart of the tropic's bile : 
 
 In the land of the Moro and pirate and snake, 
 And the glare of the scorching sky, 
 
 They stationed Arolas, a general of Spain, 
 With a handful of men — ^to die. 
 
 So we fought the fanatics who came from the 
 hills. 
 
 And the pirates who came from the seas; 
 Then we turned on our last and our deadliest foe. 
 
 The fever that came on the breeze. 
 
 Sick'ning and toiling, we drained and filled. 
 
 Till acres of marsh turned land: 
 And the fever that reigned in the reeking place 
 
 Was choked with an iron hand. 
 
 Then we builded a wall with the bricks they sent. 
 
 And pieces of coral rock; 
 The better our dwindled band to guard 
 
 Against the Mohammedan flock. 
 
 [104] 
 
Within the loop-holed walls we laid 
 Streets — shaded, graded, broad: 
 
 Cuartel and plaza — flowered parks — 
 Fit town for any lord. 
 
 Block-houses, light-house, waterworks : 
 
 Ten fathoms off the pier; 
 And virgin soil in the shaded vales. 
 
 And pearls in the waters near. 
 
 The weeks rolled by, and the months rolled by. 
 
 And the seasons slowly spent; 
 But never a word of me or mine, 
 
 On the home-bound mail-boat went. 
 
 Madrid perplexed, Manila-ward 
 Sent message o'er the sea — 
 
 " Arolas stationed to the South- 
 What news of him have ye ? " 
 
 Then from Manila down they came, 
 
 Gold-laced, officious, grand; 
 Wide-mouthed they gazed on street and park. 
 
 Wall, light-house, sea and land. 
 
 [105] 
 
Well-ordered, cool, clean, healthy, strong- 
 
 They saw my place aright — 
 And in my gaunt and weathered face, 
 
 They read the fearful fight. 
 
 To-day I bowed before my King- 
 (The Nobles bowed to me) — 
 
 And Spain exultantly extols 
 My name from sea to sea. 
 
 [106] 
 
OUR SHIPS OF GOOD INTENTION 
 
 Our Ship of Good Intentions — 
 
 We have seen it drift away, 
 We have watched it beating outward 
 
 Through the capes that bind the bay ; 
 And marooned upon an island, 
 
 With the weary wastes behind. 
 We have stood and gazed in torture 
 
 As it faded with the wind. 
 
 But again we fell the timber, 
 
 And again we plane and bend, 
 And again we mast and rig it, 
 
 (As we will unto the end) ; 
 And again, with Hope for pilot 
 
 And a rainbow 'round the bow, 
 We will launch and sail her seaward 
 
 'Neath our banner's burning vow. 
 
 Hard down the hulls are heaving 
 On the ocean's breaking breast; 
 
 [107] 
 
Hard down they're going under 
 In the glowing of the west — 
 
 But, casting eyes, to eastward 
 There above the Even Star, 
 
 Phantom keels are mounting upward. 
 Scorning rock and wind and bar. 
 
 Phantom keels and bellied canvas — 
 
 Bent spars before the wind — 
 And Fancy at the figure-head, 
 
 And never thought behind: 
 And laughing lights to leeward 
 
 O'er phosphor seas afire, 
 And faith and might to steer aright 
 
 To the Land of Our Desire. 
 
 [108] 
 
CHRISTMAS GREETING 
 
 May the joys of Christmas bring 
 To your heart eternal Spring, 
 Though the ground is white and frozen where the 
 
 flakes of winter fly 
 
 And adown the checkered years — 
 If betimes a shadow rears — 
 May your Yuletide glimmer brightly through the 
 scarlet-dawning sky. 
 
 [109] 
 
THE EMPIRE CITIES 
 
 These are the songs we proudly s'mg — the Empire 
 
 cities eight — 
 For we stand for a land, broad, fertile, grand; and 
 
 rich and strong and great. 
 
 New York. 
 
 I cast my eyes to eastward, and the sea gives up 
 its store; 
 
 I cast my eyes to westward where the mill and rail- 
 road roar, 
 
 And the riches of the Eastland and the treasures of 
 the West, 
 
 I pour across the stormy seas to nations lesser 
 blest. 
 
 And where spire and twenty-story building bite the 
 morning sky, 
 
 My thirty nations love and fight and live and toil 
 and die. 
 
 [UO] 
 
Philadelphia. 
 
 I claim no thirty nations — I boast no violent 
 
 strife — 
 And they taunt me for my slowness and my 
 
 steady, quiet life, 
 But rich and poor and great and small, however 
 
 far they roam. 
 They cherish me and love me — for aU that meaneth 
 
 Home. 
 And the loom and lathe and hammer turn and 
 
 pound the livelong day, 
 And a solid prosperous present blends with glorious 
 
 mem'ries gray. 
 
 Washington. 
 
 I hold the nation's destiny, I hold the people's 
 
 fate. 
 My mandates bind from old Cape Cod 'cross to the 
 
 Golden Gate, 
 And the mightiest nations of the earth beyond the 
 
 purple sea. 
 Their jeweled and ribboned ministers they eager 
 
 send to me. 
 And prince and king and emperor in fear or dread 
 
 or hate. 
 On word or ultimatum mine must patiently await. 
 
 [1111 
 
Chicago. 
 
 The way unto the heartstrings of the animal called 
 
 Man 
 Is through his stomach — ^thus the very ancient 
 
 proverb ran. 
 So if any city of the earth deserves more love 
 
 than I, 
 It must be where the manna falls in showers from 
 
 the sky. 
 Duluth to Buffalo my ships sail o'er the saltless 
 
 seas, 
 And railroads sending food, bring gold, and give 
 
 my people ease. 
 
 San Fkancisco. 
 
 Like Rome of old, on rugged hills, I sit in majesty. 
 
 And from my mighty cliffs look out across a sunset 
 sea. 
 
 And the riches of the Orient, silk, tea, pearl, jade 
 and spice. 
 
 Must enter through my Golden Gate, your cul- 
 tured to suffice. 
 
 And hidden batt'ries 'mong my cliffs inspect the 
 western sky, 
 
 For I watch the Asian millions with an ever wake- 
 ful eye. 
 
 [112] 
 
Honolulu. 
 
 The jewel of the Orient where the lava hot is 
 
 hurled, 
 I'm famed abroad the beauteous garden spot of all 
 
 the world. 
 Two thousand miles to eastward lies my mother 
 
 country great, 
 And to her I join the Philippines and watch the 
 
 islands' fate. 
 And the splendors of the Orient and glories of the 
 
 West, 
 Commingling with the flag I float, ordain me 
 
 triply blest. 
 
 Sitka. 
 
 I guard the northern waters, I gather hide and fur, 
 I watch the poachers off the coast, and catch them 
 
 should they err. 
 And the glories of the Northern Lights above the 
 
 frozen sea, 
 Their dazzling scintillating flames are flashing far 
 
 and free. 
 The nations send their best and worst to me to 
 
 gather gold; 
 
 And the snowy passes grimly grasp their victims 
 
 manifold. 
 8 [113] 
 
Manila. 
 
 Your farthest sentinal — ^I stand upon the Asian 
 
 coast, 
 Headquarters for your Eastern trade and valiant 
 
 khaki host; 
 And thirty miles across the bay beyond Cor- 
 
 regidor 
 The ever troubled China Sea is lapping China's 
 
 shore. 
 And Cebu hemp and Jolo pearls, Luzon tobacco too, 
 I ship to east and westward, and swell your revenue. 
 
 This is the chorus where we joim hands 'cross the 
 
 land and sea. 
 For the fa/me we sing is a lasting thing, and 
 
 helpeth thou and me. 
 
 [114] 
 
THE HEART OF THE ROVER 
 
 They're sniffing the brine of the ocean — 
 
 They're smelling the dust of the plain — 
 They're living the days of the wanderer, 
 
 Over and over again. 
 The lights of the tropic sunset — 
 
 The dusk of the ice-bound floes — 
 Are drifting anew — the seasons through — 
 
 When the heart of the rover goes. 
 
 The song of a bird in the maple — 
 
 The silver of wind-turned leaves — 
 The new-wet pine or clover — 
 
 The drone of the swarming bees — 
 A sight — a scent — a something — 
 
 Brings back o'er plain and sea, 
 To the heart of the one-time rover. 
 
 The days of Used-to-be. 
 
 Were they days of joy and pleasure? 
 
 Were they days of fast and drouth.'' 
 Were they spent by the palm-topped coral — 
 
 Or the drifts of the cross-crowned south? 
 
 [115] 
 
Were they years of haughty exile? 
 
 Were they years of bitter need? 
 Of warring or vindication? 
 
 Of avarice? Honor? Greed? 
 
 They were spent — ^that's all. They've faded 
 
 As the silent seasons roll; 
 But things to others meaningless 
 
 Are filling the rover's soul. 
 A sight — a scent — a something — j 
 
 And over the crested seas — 
 For weal or woe or sun or snow — 
 
 The heart of the rover flees. 
 
 [116] 
 
THE CLASS OF 1906 TO DR. SMITH 
 
 Now ere we raise the wind-swept ways 
 With new-cut spar and mast — 
 
 Of all we hold most dear and old 
 'Mong recollections past — 
 
 We hold for thee in memory 
 With golden hnks held fast. 
 
 By sun and rain — by hill and plain — 
 By pahn and fir and pine: 
 
 By the flashing light of the Arctic night, 
 Or the roll of the flame-streaked line, 
 
 On land or sea eternally 
 Our hearts are ever thine. 
 
 Across the rift they beckoning lift — 
 The lights that call us there. 
 
 Beyond the bay we sail away 
 To a shore of strife and care : 
 
 But may our bow point true as thou — 
 Strong, loving, just and fair. 
 
 [117] 
 
PENNSYLVANIA 1906 TO HARVARD '2 
 
 (Remembering Oliver Wendell Holmes' class poems) 
 
 For love of him who wrought thy name 
 
 By year and year anew; 
 And hke old wine grew better as 
 
 The endless circles flew, 
 We praise thy mem'ry — silver sung — 
 
 The silent seasons through. 
 
 For love of him who saw beneath 
 
 And read the inner sign: 
 Who touched a chord the angels keep 
 
 To mark the heart divine: 
 For love of him — ^we stand and pledge — 
 
 " The class of Twenty-nine ! " 
 
 [118] 
 
TO A COLLEGE FRIENDSHIP 
 
 When the college days are over — 
 When the thoughtless days are done — 
 When we hit the diiFerent trails o'er land and sea : 
 When the deeper lines are growing — 
 'Neath the shaded lamp or sun — 
 When we wash the second buoy hard alee. 
 
 When we grip the straining tiller — 
 When we grate the sunken reef — 
 When the lights we thought would lead us fade 
 and fail: 
 When the somber skies are sinking, 
 And the crested combers seethe — 
 And the scorning voices mock us through the gale. 
 
 When the summer turns to autumn, 
 And the first faint frost appears — 
 Just a tinge of scattered gray ahere and there: 
 When we round the homeward buoy, 
 Toward the Port of All the Years — 
 And we hear the rock-perched sirens call " Be- 
 ware ! " 
 
 [119] 
 
When we're beating in the Harbor — 
 Scuppers down beneath the foam — 
 With our sails a little weather-worn and frayed : 
 We will cast a golden blessing — 
 In the gathering of the gloam — 
 O'er the distant days of loyal friendship made. 
 
 [120J 
 
THE SONG OF ASIA 
 
 Northward, southward, eastward, westward — 
 
 frozen cape and boiling sea; 
 Tinted ocean, jeweled islands, west to Urals bold 
 
 and free. 
 Standing for the oldest nations, standing for the 
 
 oldest gods; 
 For those Oriental monarchs ruUng e'er with iron 
 
 rods. 
 
 Where the Yellow River broadens, where the Gobi 
 
 sand-storms drive, 
 Where the Lama rules in Lassa, where the ochre 
 
 millions thrive, 
 I have watched the Dragon Monarchs by their 
 
 stem and subtile might, 
 Conquer from the Irawaddy northward to the 
 
 Arctic night. 
 
 Where the mighty steppes are leading down to 
 Iran's sandy plain. 
 
 Gorgeous Persian king and satrap once did con- 
 quer, love and reign. 
 
 [121] 
 
Where the great twin rivers windeth through the 
 
 cradle of the World, 
 To the Macedon and Roman culture's banner I 
 
 unfurled. 
 
 Gems of Ind and silks of China, Persian rug and 
 
 Arab gold, 
 Splendor, History and Tradition all in me you 
 
 may behold. 
 Tyre and Sidon planting cities — ^jewels upon the 
 
 purple seas — 
 Sending gorgeous goods of mine that Rome might 
 
 have her luxuries. 
 
 Where the Tigris and Euphrates meet and singly 
 
 seaward flow;' 
 I have watched the greatest cities of the whole 
 
 world rise and grow — 
 Babylon the proud and splendid — Ninevah the old 
 
 and grand — 
 Empire cities wielding power over mountain, sea 
 
 and land. 
 
 Samarcand who knew the glory of the mighty 
 Tartar lords. 
 
 Holding by a bloody prestige all the reckless north- 
 em hordes. 
 
 [122] 
 
Delhi flashing white and dazzling 'neath a red, 
 
 destroying sun, 
 Home of Grand Moguls the gorgeous — ere their 
 
 setting had begun. 
 
 Frozen tundras of my northlands — fertile valleys 
 
 of my east — 
 Burning southlands jeweled and starving — ^west, 
 
 the land of song and feast. 
 Genghis Khan, Confucius, Omar, Cyrus, Buddha, 
 
 Tamerlane — 
 With those names and golden mem'ries wonder ye 
 
 that I am vain.'' 
 
 I have hurled my hosts of henchmen like the light- 
 ning in its haste. 
 
 Westward o'er the plains of Europe laying 
 slaughter, blood and waste. 
 
 I have seen those iron conquerors, from Europa's 
 barbarous state 
 
 Raise the kingdoms of the present — leam'd and 
 many, strong and great. 
 
 I was ancient, I was mighty, when no other lands 
 
 were known: 
 From my Himalayan foot-hills sprang the tongues 
 
 ye call your own. 
 
 [123] 
 
First to leave the savage Stone Age, when the cul- 
 tured arts unfurled, 
 
 Look to me and bow obeisance — ^I, the Mother of 
 the World. 
 
 [124] 
 
A BALLAD OF THE OLD EAST 
 
 In an old and distant country, in the days of long 
 
 ago, 
 Lived a rich and mighty monarch by the Oxus' 
 
 winding flow. 
 
 Greatly feared by all his foemen, greatly loved by 
 
 all his own. 
 Brave and just — beneath his power vast and strong 
 
 the land had grown. 
 
 For the fittest of the kingdom — for the glory of 
 
 the State- 
 Issued he a proclamation to the lowly and the 
 
 great. 
 
 And outside the palace-gardens, and within the 
 
 market-square, 
 All day long the prince and beggar came to 
 
 wonder and to stare. 
 
 [125] 
 
Came to wonder, came to pojider, rub his pate for 
 
 aught that he 
 For his king or for his country had performed on 
 
 land or sea. 
 
 Read the placards boldly lettered — " I the monarch 
 now proclaim 
 
 To the benefactor greatest of my glorious do- 
 main. 
 
 " Who to-morrow after sunrise, in my jewel'd and 
 
 golden hall. 
 Proves to me he merits honor greater than his 
 
 fellows all, 
 
 " Unto him I'll measure justly, from my own 
 
 abundant store. 
 Gold and jewels and hides as much as he can carry 
 
 from the door." 
 
 On the morrow ere the sunrise scarce had crept 
 
 across the plain. 
 Came in throngs the wondering people, some to 
 
 watch and some to gain. 
 
 [126] 
 
Into gate and into palace at their lord the king's 
 
 behest. 
 These in rags, and those in mantles, came they aU 
 
 however dressed. 
 
 On his throne of oak and ivory, clad in purple 
 
 and in gold. 
 Sat the pride of ancient Asia, young in looks, in 
 
 wisdom old. 
 
 Courtiers none there stood beside him, but before 
 
 his dazzling throne, 
 Mingled with the meanest servile, lowly stood to 
 
 plead their own. 
 
 Through the long and tedious hours patiently the 
 monarch heard. 
 
 Never once the face relaxing, never once a prais- 
 ing word. 
 
 One and only one was waiting to advance and face 
 
 his lord, 
 Gorgeous flashed his warrior trapeings, brightly 
 
 blazed his heavy sword. 
 
 [127] 
 
Long and deep were seen the gashes on the stern 
 
 and haughty face, 
 Pride was he of all the noblest — ^bravest of a 
 
 mighty race. 
 
 Still unbending, unrelenting, though his favorite 
 
 onward came. 
 Sat the king and raising sceptre bade him now 
 
 proclaim his fame. 
 
 In a voice by battle hardened; slowly drawing 
 
 round his cloak. 
 Confident, expectant striding, low he bent and 
 
 boldly spoke — 
 
 " Where the mighty southern mountains lift their 
 
 snowy peaks on high. 
 Where the blackened hordes are sweltering 'neath 
 
 a blue and blazing sky: 
 
 " Where the sacrificial river wends its way unto 
 
 the shore, 
 Through the tangled wood and jimgle where the 
 
 lion and tiger roar : 
 
 [128] 
 
" Where the yellow swarms assemble 'neath their 
 
 dragon banners bright. 
 Where the Yangtze broadens grandly in the realm 
 
 of Buddha's might : 
 
 " Where the sands of regal Persia parch the lip 
 
 and close the eye, 
 And on Mesopotamian rivers fast the dark-eyed 
 
 boat-men ply : 
 
 " I have left in slain and plundered — ^I have left 
 
 in blood and flame, 
 Tracks of glory to my monarch — ^terror for my 
 
 sovereign's name." 
 
 But commotion 'mong the listeners caused the 
 
 king to turn his head. 
 And reluctant from the people, partly pushed and 
 
 blushing red, 
 
 Stepped a youth but scarcely twenty, hardly 
 
 known was his name; 
 Sneered the chief that such a stripling came tg 
 
 snatch the wreath of fame. 
 
 9 [129] 
 
" Mighty king, my lord and master," spoke the 
 
 youth in faltering tones, 
 " Smoking cities, crimsoned rivers, gory fields and 
 
 whitening bones, 
 
 " Have I none to lay before thee — coming but to 
 
 hear and learn, 
 Since a few have forced me forward, list, though 
 
 little ye'U discern. 
 
 " In my home among the mountains runs a broad 
 
 and hurrying stream, 
 Gliding swiftly toward the sunset where we see 
 
 the Oxus gleam. 
 
 " On the banks to north and southward by the 
 
 mountain breezes fanned, 
 Lie a score of towns and hamlets, fair as any in 
 
 the land. 
 
 " While above, within the river, long has stood an 
 
 ancient dam, 
 Where in break of budding season I was hunting 
 
 with Oyam — 
 
 [130] 
 
" Friend of boyhood, and together walking up 
 
 beside the stream, 
 Saw I in the dam an opening, saw I there the 
 
 water's gleam. 
 
 " Saw I twenty thriving hamlets and the faces left 
 
 behind, 
 And the opening growing larger, and the waters 
 
 unconfined. 
 
 " ' Quick, Oyam,' I shouted loudly, ' speed as 
 speeds the wintry blast ! 
 
 Look, the wall is slowly parting! Warn the vil- 
 lages we passed ! ' 
 
 " To the opening rushed I quickly, thrusting half 
 
 my body through. 
 From my waist to feet in water, which each moment 
 
 colder grew. 
 
 " But the break was fiUed completely, when, ac- 
 complishing the sought. 
 
 From my hmbs the chill was creeping slowly 
 headward, drowning thought. 
 
 [131] 
 
" That is all, except my comrade, with the setting 
 
 of the sun. 
 Hastening came with many workers, and my 
 
 humble task was done." 
 
 Risen had the mighty monarch from his seat of 
 
 oak and gold. 
 Gathered close about the stripling pressed the 
 courtiers young and old. 
 
 While the murmur of approval high and ever 
 
 higher swelled, 
 Till the monarch raised his sceptre, bade that 
 
 silence should be held. 
 
 Spake the king in accents ringing, " Lo, before 
 
 me plainly glide 
 Visions twain, in mighty contrast, slowly through 
 
 the landscape ride. 
 
 " In the one is war and tumult, blazing home and 
 ruined land. 
 
 Scowling mount and bleeding river, tell the con- 
 queror's iron hand. 
 
 [132] 
 
" In the other — peace and gladness, happy hamlets, 
 
 waving grain, 
 Lofty mountains, laughing rivers flowing through 
 
 a fruitful plain. 
 
 " Youth, come hither, take the jewels, take the 
 
 ivory, hides and gold, 
 Take the yet more priceless treasure, take our 
 
 blessings manifold. 
 
 " And to-morrow with the rising of the glorious 
 
 morning sun. 
 You will find the royal commission that you 
 
 royally have won: 
 
 " Over-lord of all the hamlets in the valley of the 
 
 Ming, 
 Bearer of the Golden Sceptre, Second Councillor to 
 
 the King." 
 
 [133] 
 
THE CALLING OF THE WINDS 
 
 The Winds of the World are calling — 
 
 There's a longing in your breast 
 For the mighty sweep of the rolling deep, 
 
 Or the breath of the mountain-crest: 
 And ye long for another region — 
 
 And ye long for another clime — 
 For the friend or foe ye used to know, 
 
 And the days of another time. 
 
 The Winds of the World are calling — 
 
 And wiU ye answer nay? 
 Ye know the World where the palms unf urled- 
 
 Where the seal and the walinis play — 
 Where the rivers through the jungle 
 
 Are washing their virgin banks. 
 Where fir and pine 'neath the Arctic line 
 
 Stand straight in their serried ranks. 
 
 The Winds of the World are calling — 
 
 And will ye go and do 
 The things afar of peace or war 
 
 That beckoning call to you — 
 
 [1S4] 
 
O'er the trail of the tropic mountain, 
 O'er pampas, sea and plain, 
 
 O'er Arctic floe, in the driving snow. 
 Or the red Equator's rain? 
 
 The Winds of the World are calling — 
 
 And will ye answer no? 
 Or run amuck and cast your luck 
 
 Where the counter-tradewinds blow? 
 Where the stilted laws of city, 
 
 (Each day fore-settled — planned — ) 
 Are broke in twain on sea and plain 
 
 In the tracts of No Man's Land. 
 
 [135] 
 
THE LAND OF NEVER-NEVER 
 
 There's a Land of Never-never, 
 Just beyond the rainbow's bend — 
 
 Beck'ning far behind the offing 
 Where the mirage heavens end. 
 
 Laughing o'er the misty foot-hills — 
 Chanting down the hollow vale — 
 
 Singing 'cross the broken channel 
 When the lights to leeward fail. 
 
 There's a Land of Never-never, 
 Just beyond the dripping bow; 
 
 Lifting through the scarlet sky-line — 
 Surely you can see it now. 
 
 Bursting — dazzling — glowing golden — 
 All the hopes of other years, 
 
 Risen o'er the smoldering ruins — 
 Risen through the burning tears. 
 [136] 
 
There's a Land of Never-never — 
 Glory — ^Power — Pride or Fame — 
 
 Cherished goal we thought to gather, 
 Be whate'er the chosen name. 
 
 Bright beyond the farthest moon-beam 
 Where the stars fade out and die, 
 
 We can see it scintillating — 
 
 White and gleaming — fair and high. 
 
 There's a Land of Never-never — 
 We are drawing very near; 
 
 And the joy of all the ages 
 
 Comes to greet us toiling here. 
 
 (Just another drive to windward 
 With the lee-rail running low — 
 
 Just another cape to weather — 
 We can surely stand the blow). 
 
 But the Land of Never-never 
 Laughs across the silent sea. 
 
 And the skies rise blank and empty — 
 Where the mirage used to be. 
 
 [137] 
 
THE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 Beyond the outer markings 
 We catch the distant call — 
 
 We hear it through the golden east, 
 And where the shadows fall: 
 
 It flickers o'er the Arctic lights — 
 It laughs across the sea — 
 
 It's wispering as plain as words 
 To me. 
 
 By broken hopes that never heal — 
 By souls that struggle through — 
 
 By countless things they left undone — 
 By things they would not do — 
 
 By mighty minds of mighty men — 
 By faith of simple creeds — 
 
 By ties bound not with empty words — 
 But deeds. 
 
 No sign or symbol showeth — 
 No word or mystic mark — 
 
 No jealousy or silence — 
 No hint or dire dark — 
 
 [138] 
 
But flung across the wide, wide world, 
 
 O'er mountain, sea and plain. 
 It binding wafts and then returns 
 Again. 
 
 And Brother knoweth Brother 
 
 By the look within his eye; 
 And he does not try to reason — 
 
 And he does not wonder why : 
 And he does not clasp him to his breast- 
 
 Or weep when they depart, 
 But, he's found the only talisman — 
 A heart. 
 
 Above the ice-choked channels 
 The upright penguins stare: 
 
 They've watched the out-bound Order — 
 They are often sighted there: ^ 
 
 The phosphor-dancing fires greet 
 The Cross-crowned tropic sky, 
 
 And the palms are waving gently 
 Where they ply. 
 
 By your elbow on the crowded street — 
 By mine and mart and mire — 
 
 By bugle blast and blinding charge — 
 By wreck and roaring fire — 
 
 [139] 
 
Look ye not for sign or symbol — 
 Question none nor wonder where — 
 For the talisman lies hidden — 
 Under there. 
 
 [140]' 
 
THE LAY OF CRECY 
 
 The ranks of France are marshaled deep, 
 
 Twice sixty thousand strong; 
 The Genoese cross-bows are there — 
 The men-at-arms, the squires fair — 
 And knights, the haughty jewels and rare, 
 
 That spurn the baser throng. 
 
 And Philip, king of France, commands. 
 
 The blind Bohemian king — 
 Majorca's sovereign, stem and proud — 
 The Romans' lord in purple shroud — 
 Impatient till the trumpets loud 
 
 Their clarion voices fling. 
 
 But look ye to'ard the English camp. 
 
 Right ready 'gainst the fray — 
 The line of trusty bows and long — 
 The archers, hardened, quick and strong — 
 Though scarce to Edward now belong 
 A third the French array. 
 
 [141] 
 
Oh seldom has the glorious sun 
 
 Beheld so fair a sight, 
 As o'er the great and glittering field, 
 The shining lance and helm and shield 
 Proclaim what mighty lords shaU wield 
 
 Their arms in noble fight. 
 
 The waving plume — ^the golden rowel — 
 
 The clang of steel and steel — 
 The lifted head and haughty glance 
 Of English earl and lord of France, 
 As forward now the lines advance 
 Beneath the trumpets' peal. 
 
 The Genoese cross-bowmen come. 
 
 And strain and pull and bend; 
 And pull and strain and bend again. 
 But strings awetted by the rain 
 Are better were they broke in twain, 
 For harmless shafts they send. 
 
 Not thus the English archers stout. 
 
 Not thus their goodly bows ; 
 But from thfeir cases, dry and light. 
 They quickly spring, and shafts as flight 
 Of hurtling hail on winter's night, 
 
 Hew down the frightened foes. 
 
 [142] 
 
Grimaldi, Doria, all in vain 
 
 Ye shout — entreat — command. 
 The bravest knights of Christendom — 
 The stoutest Norse that sailed the foam- 
 The legions of imperial Rome — 
 Could naught the storm withstand. 
 
 And routed are the Genoese: 
 
 While forward comes the pride 
 Of England's noble chivalry — 
 The youth the maidens love to see — 
 The youth the striplings strive to be — 
 The young Black Prince doth ride. 
 
 And 'gainst the brother of the king — 
 
 The Count of Alen9on; 
 And forward 'gainst the heavy ranks, 
 Where'er anon athwart the flanks 
 Of thoroughbreds the armor clanks, 
 
 The sable prince comes on. 
 
 Like waves upon a rocky shore, 
 The horse of England dash. 
 Now hear the clang of mace and spear — 
 The sword and lance's shrieking hear — 
 While standards reel and chargers rear, 
 As deadly foemen clash. 
 
 [143] 
 
Like breakers 'gainst the rugged rocks, 
 
 The struggle rages wild. 
 And now forsooth on either hand 
 Doth fall the fairest of the land, 
 Of lineage great and titles grand. 
 
 In helpless hillocks piled. 
 
 Far back and forth with mighty roar 
 
 The crimson surges roll. 
 And truly 'tis a goodly sight 
 To see in midst of gory fight. 
 The stripling prince to left and right 
 
 Lay on with lusty soul. 
 
 Fair cause has Edward proud to be 
 
 Of such a warrior lad. 
 The plated squadrons closely pressed 
 Before the charging Prince's crest. 
 Bewildered — ^break. And, 'mong the blest, 
 
 Now may their souls be glad. 
 
 Ho Philip thou of Valois now 
 Grasp firm the sword and lance! 
 
 For ere the setting of the sun — 
 
 For ere another day is done — 
 
 The fight is lost — ^the fight is won — 
 Lay on, lay on for France! 
 
 [Ui] 
 
Hold high the royal banner 
 
 Above the battle roar ; 
 That Frenchmen, gladdened by the sight, 
 May follow where the lilies white 
 Shall — ^waving o'er the failing fight — 
 
 Yet turn the tide of war. 
 
 And now the king's division and 
 
 The English army meet : 
 But John of Hainault rideth far 
 His monarch from the scene of war: 
 And none may France's flight debar — 
 
 And naught avert defeat. 
 
 Her knights and squires strewn lay 
 
 Abroad the battle-field. 
 For over all the stricken plain, 
 Writhe rent and gashed the mail-clad slain ; 
 And rising half — ^the wounded strain 
 
 The splintered lance to wield. 
 
 Beneath the early evening sky — 
 
 In death's last fierce embrace, 
 French, English, Welsh and Genoese — 
 Cross-bowmen, yeomen, lords, grandees — 
 From alien lands and over seas — 
 
 Lie fallen face to face. 
 
 10 [145] 
 
The Ostrich Feathers Three are low 
 
 In brave Bohemian blood. 
 No more Majorca's king shall raise 
 His haughty brow, and proudly gaze 
 To where, upon his castle blaze 
 His arms in sunlight's flood. 
 
 The Dukes Lorraine and Bourbon too 
 No more shall raise a hand 
 
 To strike for native soil and king. 
 
 No more their waving crests shall fling. 
 As free and light as swallow's wing, 
 O'er France's verdant land. 
 
 The setting sun in splendor sinks 
 
 Beyond the western wave. 
 And as the last lights lingering fall 
 On duke and earl and yeoman, all 
 Low laid by king and country's call. 
 In gold the scene they bathe. 
 
 [146] 
 
THE FAILERS 
 
 Look Lord upon thy Failers, 
 
 On river and land and sea; 
 Who've toiled and fought for the things they 
 sought. 
 
 But losers utterly. 
 Their prestige o'er the Nation, 
 
 Rings not through the Hall of Fame, 
 For to the grave — crushed, weary, brave — 
 
 They go with knownless name. 
 
 They've split the rock, they've furled the sail, 
 
 They've grasped the pen and gun. 
 They've beaten the paths of the boundless earth, 
 
 'Neath snow and the tropic sun : 
 They've striven — (Lord they've striven — ) 
 
 'Gainst the luck and the odds that are ; 
 Through day and night a ceaseless fight, 
 
 And lost their guiding star. 
 
 Look Lord on the mighty Failers, 
 With thought and purpose high ; 
 
 [147] 
 
Look Lord on the feebler Failers, 
 
 And do not pass them by. 
 They've fought a long and glorious fight — 
 
 They've missed their golden goal — 
 Their hearts are crushed in the great world's rush, 
 
 Touch Thou the FaUer's soul. 
 
 Oh Lord of the ancient ages, 
 
 Oh Lord of the oldest past, 
 Oh Lord of the splendid present, 
 
 And the future to the last, 
 Look down on the fruitless strivers — 
 
 The Failers of East and West — 
 And grant them a double blessing Lord, 
 
 Ye grant to all the rest. 
 
 [148] 
 
THE CITY MOON 
 
 Through the hurrying, lighted city. 
 Through the grinding rush and roar, 
 
 High o'er brick and stone and coping 
 We are seeing you once more. 
 
 Paler, fainter — cold, uncanny — 
 Where the wires swing on high, 
 
 And the twenty stories tower 
 
 Blocked and black against the sky. 
 
 Surely— no, we're only dreaming, 
 You are not the moon we knew 
 
 When we watched the wild waves rushing 
 'Gainst the gorge and driving through: 
 
 Till the foam as molten silver — 
 Till the spray as dancing fire — 
 
 Sped the dormant blood within us 
 To the Land of Our Desire. 
 
 [149] 
 
You are not the moon that watched us 
 Where the lone lean shadows lie 
 
 O'er the jewel-bestudded snow-field, 
 'Neath the blue-black winter sky. 
 
 You are not the moon that broadened 
 Silver paths across the sea. 
 
 Till the scintillating ocean 
 Danced in joyous ecstasy: 
 
 Till the rock-bound bight before us, 
 Like a dream-enchanted bay. 
 
 Broke in brimming, golden goblets. 
 
 Romped and roared and rolled away. 
 
 You are not the moon that lingered 
 Where the lake-side birches rise 
 
 Tier on tier in gleaming whiteness 
 O'er the star-reflected skies: 
 
 Nor the harvest moon that mellowed 
 Sea and cliff and hill and plain. 
 
 Soothing care and disappointment — 
 Bringing cherished days again. 
 
 [150] 
 
We renounce you — ^wan and withered — 
 'Bove the walk of brick and stone: 
 
 They may have you — they may keep you- 
 You are not the moon tae^ve known. 
 
 [151] 
 
THE DOUBTER 
 
 Long he pondered through the gloaming — ^long he 
 wondered through the night — 
 
 Long the heavens shone and shimmered — ^purple, 
 gray, refulgent, dim: 
 
 Till the roaring chorus rumbled, till the little harp- 
 strings trebled, 
 
 Age on age in endless answer — spirit-voice or 
 cherubim — 
 
 " Gaze, Oh Doubter, o'er cathedral, church and 
 
 temple, mosque and shrine. 
 While the solemn millions mutter, ' Lo, the only 
 
 faith is mine.' 
 Creed on creed and seer and prophet — festival and 
 
 fast and feast — 
 Would ye learn the truth. Oh Doubter, from the 
 
 mighty and the least? 
 
 " Look then to the ancient Eastward where the 
 
 bulky Buddhas squat, 
 Fervently the flaccid faces praise the gods who 
 
 know them not 
 
 [152] 
 
Out beyond the red-railed temple when the punk- 
 smoke curls away, 
 
 Out beyond the last least star-beam lies the God 
 to Whom they pray. 
 
 " Look, Oh Doubter, to the Westward with the sun- 
 baked plains aglare, 
 
 Once Apache and Comanche held their savage 
 service there. 
 
 Form and figure — fetish, fire — ^bleeding gash and 
 sacred sign, 
 
 But a Manitou stood guarding — as he guardeth 
 thee and thine. 
 
 " Hear, Oh Doubter, cries of battle — ^watch the 
 
 crimson banners toss — 
 ' La illaha — il Allah ' shrieks the Crescent to the 
 
 Cross : 
 High above the crashing squadrons rings the loud 
 
 exultant yell 
 
 (Cross or Crescent — ^leam ye nothing from the 
 
 hated ' Infidel ' ?) 
 
 " Look, Oh Doubter, where the Forum marks the 
 
 heart of mighty Rome; 
 Ponder you when you discover different gods in 
 
 every home? 
 
 [163] 
 
City — province — outer boundary — where the close- 
 locked legions rove — ■ 
 
 There you find him crowned supernal — Jupiter — 
 the great god Jove. 
 
 " See, Oh Doubter, proud Olympus 'bove the pale 
 ^gean blue 
 
 Watching where the war-scarred triremes from the 
 Hellespoht drive through. 
 
 Count her many-headed Council — human hatred — 
 love — abuse — 
 
 But the haughty Hellenes tremble low before Al- 
 mighty Zeus. 
 
 " Go, Oh Doubter, where a river built an Empire 
 
 eons old. 
 Scorn the village triads — scorn them — ^little gods 
 
 of brass and gold. 
 Scan papyri that was destined only Higher Castes 
 
 might see. 
 And behold — alone — stands Ammon — as he stands 
 
 for thine and thee. 
 
 " Dig, Oh Doubter, deep and deeper where the 
 
 sand-choked cities lie. 
 Till the Tigris and Euphrates fling their story to 
 
 the sky : 
 
 [154] 
 
Till the quaint-carved figures answer (honor not 
 
 the Lesser Things) — 
 ' Whom ye seek is Him we worshipped — ^Lord of 
 
 Lords and King of Kings.' " 
 
 Died the rolUng chorus softly — sank the spirit- 
 voice away — 
 
 Vanished night and spreading golden blazed the 
 dawning light of day : 
 
 And the Doubter stood Believer — saw Him — and in 
 seeing knew — 
 
 God and Allah — ^Zeus and Ammon — Jove — Jeho- 
 vah — Manitou . 
 
 [155] 
 
THE SONG OF THE BLIND 
 
 Across the twUight stillness 
 
 Creeps forth a silent song, 
 {That Tumght hut the ear of the angels hear) 
 
 " How long — Oh Lord — how long? " 
 
 From out our belted darkness 
 
 We feel the evening breeze, 
 We list to the low boughs bending 
 
 And the click of the wind-turned leaves. 
 We know the feathered flutter 
 
 When the homing thrushes wing, 
 We catch the hail of the rising quail — 
 
 We hear the robins sing. 
 
 A waft from the fields of clover — 
 A whifi' of the new-wet pine — 
 
 The sweet-lipped honeysuckle. 
 
 And the breath of the wind-swept brine 
 
 We scent — and we are grateful — 
 But oh for the days that were, 
 
 [156] 
 
When we saw the pine and the 
 white-flecked brine, 
 The clover and beech and fir. 
 
 We feel the night air stirring — 
 
 We know the hour well: 
 And the western sky is blazing — 
 
 (We hear our neighbors tell) : 
 Oh yes, we've seen it spreading 
 
 AU crimson, gold and green, 
 And the Star of Evening shining 
 
 Through a lilac-tinted screen. 
 
 We hear the crickets chirping, 
 
 (The day is mostly done). 
 Are the fire-flies aflitting? 
 
 Are the candles one by one 
 Appearing as they used to do 
 
 Beyond the outer mark? — 
 Where faint and gray the Milky Way 
 
 Illumes the dotted dark. 
 
 We used to see Orion 
 
 In nightly combat there: 
 
 We used to see the Scorpion — 
 The Archer and the Bear: 
 
 [157] 
 
We used to see the shining Cross — 
 
 All mystic, pale and white — 
 Reflect the glow of the southern snow 
 
 Across the arching night. 
 
 We used to see the silent moon 
 
 And the silver-flooded bay — 
 Where waves careen in the molten sheen 
 
 And slowly dance away — 
 TiU the Morning Star like a liquid lamp 
 
 Rose high and clear and cold, 
 And the first faint hue of the dawn we knew 
 
 Burst forth in a flood of gold. 
 
 We're trying to be cheerful, Lord, 
 
 In our infirmity. 
 But oh for a sight of the white-ribbed foam 
 
 As it leaps from the open sea: 
 And oh for a look on the dark-green pines 
 
 Against the virgin snow — 
 Or stand by the drift where the sea-gulls lift 
 
 And watch the afterglow. 
 
 The heliotrope and mignonette 
 
 We scent along the lane, 
 But the rose's blush and the tulip's tint 
 
 We may not know again. 
 
 [158] 
 
We hear the swallow overhead — 
 We hear the lone loon's call — 
 
 But we can't descry the sun-burst sky 
 With the rainbow over all. 
 
 Across the twimklmg twilight 
 Creeps forth the silent song — 
 
 {That only the ear of the angels hear) 
 " Ho^ long — Oh Lord — how long? " 
 
 And back through the starry stillness. 
 Where the last least embers glow. 
 
 From ring to rmg the far spheres fting 
 The word of a God they know. 
 
 [1S9]