Bret Harte,
Complete Poetical Works
“ In such cheer it struggled on Till the battle front was won: Then the car, its journey done, Lo! was stationary; And where bullets whistling fly Came the sadder, fainter cry, "Help us, brothers, ere we die,— Save us, Sanitary!" Such the work. The phantom flies, Wrapped in battle clouds that rise: But the brave—whose dying eyes, Veiled and visionary, See the jasper gates swung wide, See the parted throng outside— Hears the voice to those who ride: "Pass in, Sanitary!" ”
