THE FIFTEENTH REGIMENT

*

Hush, chile, listen! Ain't dey comin'?
Yes, dat is dem comin' now!
I can hyeah de crowds hurrahin'-
I can see de soljahs bow.

Son, don't think yo' granny's crazy,
But dat music 'fects my feet,
When dat fightin' Fifteenth Reg❜ment
Comes a marchin' down de street.

Lawzee, honey, hyeah dat music!
Ain't dem chillen playin' some?
Den jes' look daih in de middle,
See dat one daih wid de drum;
His whole body's in dat playin',
From his head down to his feet,
When dat fightin' Fifteenth Reg❜ment
Comes a marchin' down de street.

Ain't dey happy, too; jes' see 'em ;
Boys, yo' mothah's watchin' you;

And I know the Gord in Glory
Has His eyes upon you, too,
And dat repperbate " de Kaisah "
Mout as well expect defeat,
When you reaches "ovah yondah "
goes marchin' down de street.
THEODORE HENRY SHACKELFORD.

An'

By permission of the AUTHOR.

TO THE ANGLO-SAXON AVIATORS

The pilots of the future peace appear...
Riding at will the wild wind's frozen breath,
They fly into the very face of fear,

The final foe, that conquered, conquers death.

Freedom has taken wings! Her message soars Amid the battle wrack through trembling skies; Borne on a myriad flashing planes it roars Defiance to the priests of ancient lies.

Bound by the magic of a common tongue,
America and Britain hurl through space,
The challenge of democracy resung:
The mighty pean of a mighty race.

C. GOUVERNEUR HOFFMAN.

By permission.

Copyrighted, 1918, by SCRIBNER'S MAGAZINE.

EAGLE YOUTH
(1918)

They have taken his horse and plume,
They have left him to plod, and fume
For a hero's scope and room!

They have curbed his fighting pride,
They have bade him burrow and hide
With a million, side by side:

Look-into the air he springs,
Fighting with wings!

He has found a way to be free
Of that dim immensity

That would swallow up such as he:
Who would burrow when he could fly?
He will climb up into the sky,

And the world shall watch him die!

Only his peers may dare

Follow him there!

Call me sacrilegious,

And irreverent, too;

Pies? They link us up with home
As naught else can do!

"Home is where the heart is "

True, the poet sang;

But "Home is where the pie is "

To the Yankee gang!

From YANKS, Published by the A. E. F.

ANONYMOUS.

BOTH WORSHIPPED THE SAME GREAT NAME

Jack Smith belonged to the Y. M. C. A.,

Pat Sheehan to the K. of C.

Both marched away 'neath the flag one day

To fight for the Land of the Free.

While Jack stood straight as he humbly prayed,

Pat knelt at a candled shrine;

But the same great God heard each whispered word That harkens to yours and mine.

Each bullet its billet has got, they say,
And always will find some mark;

And Pat and Jack in a trench mud black
Lay side by side in the dark.

Their life's blood ebbed with a falling tide
As they came toward the Great Unknown;
But hand in hand from that far-off land
They knew they were not alone.

VERSE FOR PATRIOTS

So "over the top" to the Glory Side,

Where never is war nor tears

Where the true and tried in God's love abide

With nothing of doubts nor fears.

And the God they met as they entered in
Where the souls of all men are free

Was the God of Jack's Y. M. C. A.

And the God of Pat's K. of C.

ANONYMOUS.

THE RED CROSS NURSE

The battle smoke still fouled the day,
With bright disaster flaming through;
Unchecked, absorbed, she held her way-
The whispering death still past her flew.

A cross of red was on her sleeve;

And here she stayed, the wound to bind,
And there, the fighting soul relieve,
That strove its Unknown Peace to find.

A cross of red

yet one has dreamed
Of her he loved and left in tears;

But into dying sight she seemed
A visitant from other spheres.

The whispering death-it nearer drew;
It holds her heart in strict arrest,
And where was one, are crosses two-
A crimson cross is on her breast!

EDITH M. THOMAS.

By permission, Thomas, THE WHITE MESSENGER, The Four Seas Co.

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