Part 7 (1/2)

The Second cried, ”Before I died I hurled the foe to h.e.l.l.”

As for the Third, he spoke no word But hastened on his way, Until at last a whisper pa.s.sed: ”How did _you_ die today?”

”There was a maid slept unafraid Within a hut,” he said.

”I searched the place and for a s.p.a.ce I thought that all had fled.

”But her breast glowed white in the morning light As the early dawn grew red; Tiptoe I came in l.u.s.t and shame And stood beside her bed.

”And there I fought an evil thought And won--and turned to go; Then as I went into my tent A bullet struck me low.”

The others heard and spoke no word (For dead men understand), But 'round they turned and their deep eyes burned As they gripped his leaden hand.

TO THE LITTLE BLACK DOG

We see you in the morning When Reveille implores; We meet you in the evening At end of daily ch.o.r.es.

On march, fatigue, or drilling Our friend we find you still, With kindly, pleasant bearing And independent will.

You're small, you're thin, you're homely, You're battered, scratched, and lame; But in our tasks before us Pray G.o.d we be as game!

[Ill.u.s.tration]

WHEN EAST IS WEST

See that man in khaki clothes, Squirming in the dust; Toying with a sketching board, Uniform all mussed.

Squinting 'long a little stick, Grunting fit to bust-- Turning out a road sketch For his Captain.

First he drills a ”starting point.”

Then he takes a ”shot;”

Someone's scare-crow gets a line, Closes Jones's lot.

Paces stiffly down the road, Worried--tense--and hot-- Turning out a road sketch For his Captain.

Now an ”intersection point;”

Watch the compa.s.s turn.

Think to see him finger it Bloomin' thing would burn.

Missed an inch by motor truck; Eyes it proud and stern-- Turning out a road sketch For his Captain.