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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392466" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>With Deaths' Prophetic Ear</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lay my rifle here beside me, set my Bible on my breast, <br> For a moment let the warning bugles cease; <br>As the century is closing I am going to my rest, <br> Lord, lettest Thou Thy servant go in peace. <br>But loud through all the bugles rings a cadence in mine ear, <br> And on the winds my hopes of peace are strowed. <br>Those winds that waft the voices that already I can hear <br> Of the rooi-baatjes singing on the road. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, the red-coats are returning, I can hear the steady tramp, <br> After twenty years of waiting, lulled to sleep, <br>Since rank and file at Potchefstroom we hemmed them in their camp, <br> And cut them up at Bronkerspruit like sheep. <br>They shelled us at Ingogo, but we galloped into range, <br> And we shot the British gunners where they showed. <br>I guessed they would return to us, I knew the chance must change -- <br> Hark! the rooi-baatjes singing on the road! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But now from snow-swept Canada, from India's torrid plains, <br> From lone Australian outposts, hither led, <br>Obeying their commando, as they heard the bugle's strains, <br> The men in brown have joined the men in red. <br>They come to find the colours at Majuba left and lost, <br> They come to pay us back the debt they owed; <br>And I hear new voices lifted, and I see strange colours tossed, <br> 'Mid the rooi-baatjes singing on the road. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The old, old faiths must falter, and the old, old creeds must fail -- <br> I hear it in that distant murmur low -- <br>The old, old order changes, and 'tis vain for us to rail, <br> The great world does not want us -- we must go. <br>And veldt, and spruit, and kopje to the stranger will belong, <br> No more to trek before him we shall load; <br>Too well, too well, I know it, for I hear it in the song <br> Of the rooi-baatjes singing on the road. <br></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frank+Dalby+Davison">Frank Dalby Davison</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392466" data-title="With Deaths' Prophetic Ear de Frank Dalby Davison" data-description="Lay my rifle here beside me, set my Bible on my breast, 
 For a moment let the warning bugles cease; 
As the century is closing I am going to my rest, 
 Lord, lettest Thou Thy servant go in peace. 
But loud through all the bugles rings a cadence i..."></div>
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