Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/147



through the land, Vigilantes, ride!

From this bound of the East where the inrolling tide

With more than the red of the sunrise is dyed,

As crimson the foam is borne to our strand!

Ride!

Draw not the rein, and make not your stand,

Till ye come to the slumbering heart of the land:

Tell them who sleep—so loth to awake,

All unprepared for the storm that must break—

Tell them, Humanity's all is at stake!

Tell them, "'Tis Freedom that falls in the breach!"