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, . FITTING TRIBUTE TO "OUR HORSES" J "W bad noaght the sweet seclusion of an old estamiaet And the wine cup circulated in the old familiar way : We had fed our hearts on memories, sad talked as soldiers will Of the comrades "pushing daisies o:i a barren shell - marked hill. Put one western boy was silent never lifted up his head Till reaeataaral seemed to stir him. and he raised his eyes Bad said: "• Rat what ah ut tin hos-, s In the roll-call of I he dead -Are they inenlioued in the losses Has ;i single arord been said: Is there any simple token of their agony unspoken — Have they any wooden crosses In the valleys where they bled? "Our thoughts flew back like lightning and across the brimming cap We siw tin beasts of burden bringing ammunition up- The endless line of transport winding up across tin-hill. And the starving and the dying on the fields of AubrevilU — The misery, the fortiinde of those that had been gassed. Ami the ryes of silent sorrow, pleading patience as they passed. "Ay, What about the horses? On the blazoned scroll of Fame — The palling, hauling horses. And tlie broken, blind and lame. Giving every ounce of power, to the gaapiag, dj lag hour Win-res the martyr la the fores Played a better, braver game." V. V. Stephens. 11 th linginecis. . S. A.
