<h2> Only a Jockey </h2>
<p>'Richard Bennison, a jockey, aged 14, while riding William Tell<br/>
in his training, was thrown and killed. The horse is luckily uninjured.'<br/>
— Melbourne Wire.<br/></p>
<p>Out in the grey cheerless chill of the morning light,<br/>
Out on the track where the night shades still lurk;<br/>
Ere the first gleam of the sungod's returning light,<br/>
Round come the race-horses early at work.<br/>
<br/>
Reefing and pulling and racing so readily,<br/>
Close sit the jockey-boys holding them hard,<br/>
'Steady the stallion there — canter him steadily,<br/>
Don't let him gallop so much as a yard.'<br/>
<br/>
Fiercely he fights while the others run wide of him,<br/>
Reefs at the bit that would hold him in thrall,<br/>
Plunges and bucks till the boy that's astride of him<br/>
Goes to the ground with a terrible fall.<br/>
<br/>
'Stop him there! Block him there! Drive him in carefully,<br/>
Lead him about till he's quiet and cool.<br/>
Sound as a bell! though he's blown himself fearfully,<br/>
Now let us pick up this poor little fool.<br/>
<br/>
'Stunned? Oh, by Jove, I'm afraid it's a case with him;<br/>
Ride for the doctor! keep bathing his head!<br/>
Send for a cart to go down to our place with him' —<br/>
No use! One long sigh and the little chap's dead.<br/>
<br/>
Only a jockey-boy, foul-mouthed and bad you see,<br/>
Ignorant, heathenish, gone to his rest.<br/>
Parson or Presbyter, Pharisee, Sadducee,<br/>
What did you do for him? — bad was the best.<br/>
<br/>
Negroes and foreigners, all have a claim on you;<br/>
Yearly you send your well-advertised hoard,<br/>
But the poor jockey-boy — shame on you, shame on you,<br/>
'Feed ye, my little ones' — what said the Lord?<br/>
<br/>
Him ye held less than the outer barbarian,<br/>
Left him to die in his ignorant sin;<br/>
Have you no principles, humanitarian?<br/>
Have you no precept — 'go gather them in?'<br/>
<br/>
. . . . .<br/>
<br/>
Knew he God's name? In his brutal profanity,<br/>
That name was an oath — out of many but one —<br/>
What did he get from our famed Christianity?<br/>
Where has his soul — if he had any — gone?<br/>
<br/>
Fourteen years old, and what was he taught of it?<br/>
What did he know of God's infinite grace?<br/>
Draw the dark curtain of shame o'er the thought of it,<br/>
Draw the shroud over the jockey-boy's face.<br/></p>
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