Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/152

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110

A SONG OF THE PLANE

This is the song of the Air—
The lifting, drifting air,
The eddying, steadying air,
The wine of its limitless space,
May it nerve us at last to dare
Even death with undaunted face!
Hey ho! for the Air.

Gordon Alchin.