R“ IOHDAY. 001'. 14. 191! \ ‘- “sigma ~ 3’ J, _‘\ Whose Limit Is All That He Can (1) This is the song of the plane— — This is the song of the gun—— The creaking, shrieking plane, The muttering, stuttering gun, The throbbing. sobbing plane. The maddening, gladdening gun: And the moaning, groaning wires: That chuckles with evil glee The engine—lniissing againl At the last long dive oi the Hun, One cylinder never fires! With its end in eternity! Hey hoi For the plane! Hey hoi For the gunl . (2) , (4) This is the song of the man—3, This is the song of the air—é The driving, striving man. , The lifting. drifting air, The chosen, frozen man: The eddying, steadying air. The pilot, the man-at-the-wheel, The wine of its limitless space: Whose limit is all that he can, May it nerve us at last to date And beyond, if the need is real! Even death with undaunted iacel . Hey hol For the man! Hey hol For the air! "OBSERVER. R. F. (3.”: The eyes of the army. The airplanes are going over, thousands of them. There must be more to ‘follow, thousands of them. Let us turn our own eyes inward— search our own hearts—andsee that no selfish slacker dollar remainsunconsecrated to the service of the'men we love. 'Would We Not Die for Them-— ' Our Fighting Men in France .? Then let us BUY for them-all the bonds we can—with the same great unselfishness with which they fight and die. gThis is the spirit with which they and we—fight- '. .’ ”Y'WW .ing-working—saving together-will as God sees us, ' , ' l”, V' 217A inevitably WIN l ' , A ,, ‘ f‘Our Limit Is All That We Can” ‘ ‘ Buy Bonds to Your Utmost! u~w.~~~h
Norwalk Chronicler