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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408918" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Skyline Riders</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Against the light of a dawning white<br>My Skyline Riders stand—<br>There is trouble ahead for a dark year dead<br>And the selfish wrongs of a land;<br>There are hurrying feet of fools to repeat<br>The follies of Nineteen Eight,<br>But darkly still on each distant hill<br>My riders watch and wait. <br>My Skyline Riders are down and gone<br>As far as the eye can see,<br>And the horses stand in the shades of dawn<br>Where a single man holds three.<br>We feel the flush and we feel the thrill<br>Of the coming of Nineteen Nine,<br>For my Skyline Riders are over the hill<br>And into the firing line. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The skyline lifts while a storm-cloud lowers—<br>What’s that? A shot! All’s well!<br>There is news out there for this land of ours<br>That the tattling rifles tell.<br>A “thud” and a “thud” and a flash like blood!<br>There is light on the land at last!<br>Australian guns on the nearer hills<br>Are talking about the past. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, a lonely place in the days gone by<br>Was the long first firing line,<br>Where we fought as strangers, you and I,<br>For the land that was yours and mine.<br>There was time to dream in the firing line,<br>There was time to starve and die,<br>When the only things in that world of mine<br>Were my Native Land and I. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, a lonely place was the firing line<br>When the gaps were wide between—<br>Hundreds of miles, in this land of mine<br>And never a soldier seen.<br>The dying must die and the dead were left<br>Unmarked by the deadly tired—<br>When struck to the heart in a firing line<br>Where never a shot was fired. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">O, a lonely place was the firing line<br>In the days of the dearth of men,<br>But hundreds and hundreds of soldiers’ sons<br>Have flocked to the line since then<br>We left it weak in the hour of pride,<br>When our rule seemed firmly set,<br>But danger threatened the firing line,<br>And there’s deadly danger yet. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Proud of virtue, and proud of sin,<br>Or proud ’neath a cruel wrong;<br>Proud in failure or proud to win—<br>Oh, the pride of man is strong!<br>Proud of gold or of being without<br>Or proud of women and wine—<br>But get you down from your horse of pride<br>And into the firing line. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Pride in poverty—all the same—<br>There’s work for all men to do,<br>With wrong to fight there is deathless fame<br>To win in a land so new.<br>Preacher and drunkard! and sportsman and bard!<br>In the dawning of Nineteen Nine—<br>Saints and sinners! ride hard! ride hard!<br>They are pressed in the Firing Line.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Lawson">Henry Lawson</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=408918" data-title="The Skyline Riders de Henry Lawson" data-description="Against the light of a dawning white
My Skyline Riders stand—
There is trouble ahead for a dark year dead
And the selfish wrongs of a land;
There are hurrying feet of fools to repeat
The follies of Nineteen Eight,
But darkly still on each distan..."></div>
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