“There must be pioneers,” he said,
“And some of them get killed.”
He was one of those adventurers
Who have dared the thing they willed.
There must be pioneers—my mind
Called the long roll of dead
Who died to lead us on, who broke
Our trail wild miles ahead.
Poisoned by deadly germs they died,
They fell from the sky in flames.
In tropic jungles, in arctic ice
They lie—we forget their names.
In every sea their singing souls
Rise to the crest of the wave.
In every land their banners fly
From many an unmarked grave.
They took the leap, and bade us follow
Into the starry stream-
Heroes who did the impossible,
Dreamers who lived the dream.
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