limb and hand,
I lift my horse first by a nose past the stand.
We are under the string now--the great race is done--
And Salvator, Salvator, Salvator won!

Cheer, hoary-headed patriarchs; cheer loud, I say;
'Tis the race of a century witnessed to-day!
Though ye live twice the space that's allotted to men
Ye never will see such a grand race again.
Let the shouts of the populace roar like the surf,
For Salvator, Salvator, king of the turf,
He has rivaled the record of thirteen long years;
He has won the first place in the vast line of peers.
'Twas a neck-to-neck contest, a grand, honest race,
And even his enemies grant him his place.
Down into the dust let old records be hurled,
And hang out 2:05 to the gaze of the world!

_Ella Wheeler Wilcox._

I Got to Go to School

I'd like to hunt the Injuns 't roam the boundless plain!
I'd like to be a pirate an' plow the ragin' main!
An' capture some big island, in lordly pomp to rule;
But I just can't be nothin' cause I got to go to school.

'Most all great men, so I have read, has been the ones 'at got
The least amount o' learnin' by a flickerin' pitch pine knot;
An' many a darin' boy like me grows up to be a fool,
An' never 'mounts to nothin' 'cause he's got to go to school.

I'd like to be a cowboy an' rope the Texas steer!
I'd like to be a sleuth-houn' or a bloody buccaneer!
An' leave the foe to welter where their blood had made a pool;
But how can I git famous? 'cause I got to go to school.

I don't see how my parents kin make the big mistake.
O' keepin' down a boy like me 'at's got a name to make!
It ain't no wonder boys is bad, an' balky as a mule;
Life ain't worth livin' if you've got to waste your time in school.

I'd like to be regarded as "The Terror of the Plains"!
I'd like to hear my victims shriek an' clank their prison chains!
I'd like to face the enemy with gaze serene an' cool,
An' wipe 'em off the earth, but pshaw! I got to go to school.

What good is 'rithmetic an' things, exceptin' jest for girls,
Er them there Fauntleroys 'at wears their hair in pretty curls?
An' if my name is never seen on hist'ry's page, why, you'll
Remember 'at it's all because I got to go to school.

_Nixon Waterman._

With Little Boy Blue

(_Written after the death of Eugene Field._)

Silent he watched them--the soldiers and dog--
Tin toys on the little armchair,
Keeping their tryst through the slow going years
For the hand that had stat