WEDNESDAY EVENING
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Whose Limit Is All That He Can^
*\r This is the song of the plane— This is the song of the gun—
The creaking, shrieking plane, The muttering, stuttering gun, Jt \m^
JML The throbbing, sobbing plane, The maddening, gladdening gun: I\-V f • * Jjj^
And the moaning, groaning wires: That chuckles with evil glee \ \
The engine—missing again 1 . At the last long dive of the Hun, '
W/ One cylinder never fires! With-its end in eternity! JL
Hey ho! For the plane! Hey ho! For the gun! j
%g|f This is the song of the man— This is the song of the air— \y
The driving, striving man, The lifting, drifting air, iV"" 7\ - 4s
V The chosen, frozen man: The eddying, steadying air, \\ ?Jf\
wj The pilot, the man-at-the-wheel, The wine of its limitless space: V N .; J
JpjC Whose limit is all that he can , May it nerve us at last to dare tL ?a ® If*}*? w
And beyond, if the need is real! Even death with undaunted face! L 'V\ Kh
Hey ho! For the man! Hey ho! For the air! j 'y\ 'j'Jjj
* ' . "OBSERVER, R. F. C." . j !tI
The eyes of the army. The airplanes are going over, |k .'; 1 ijl \',t
thousands of them. There must be more to follow, IhB|f JllL
thousands of them. Let us turn our own eyes inward— '.' - y
JLk. search our own hearts—andsee that no selfish slacker dollar < -^v
' remains unconsecrated to the service of the men we love. w|M mp| Wm,f
Would We Not Die for Them— il Sll^
\yi Our Fighting Men in France ? • W
Then let us BUY for them—all the bonds we can—with
\d the same great unselfishness with which they fight and
die. This- is the spirit with which they and we—fight
ing—working—saving together—will as God sees us,
If "Our Limit Is All That We Can" J|L
Buy Bonds to Your Utmost! n
r/zis Space Contributed, to the Winning of the War by
' \
Commonwealth Trust Co. . First National Bank
HAHRISBTJRG tdSi3b TELEGRAPH
' OCTOBER 9, 1918.
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