April 9 marks the 100-year anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge, the first occasion of four divisions of the Canadian Expeditionary Force participating in a battle as a cohesive formation. Vimy Ridge has since become a Canadian national symbol of achievement and sacrifice.

When Mim Miller was a young girl, her father had a subscription to The Canadian Sportsman, an Ontario horse racing publication. Her dad’s horses ran in harness races, and even after her father died, Mim kept receiving those monthly magazines.

In one of those editions, 60-some years ago, she found the poem called “The Chestnut Horse and Joe,” transcribed below. The Wilmot Township woman clipped out those touching verses and kept a copy in her wallet for many years, until it was yellow and tattered.

She’s since had it transcribed and keeps a framed copy on her wall. The poem was written about the First World War, and with the 100th anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge happening April 9, 2017, Miller wanted to share these words with the readers of the local paper, the New Hamburg Independent.

Miller and the Independent have offered to share the poem with Standardbred Canada.

The Chestnut Horse and Joe

“Just a chestnut horse,” the neighbors said;
As they saw him led away;
And they marvelled much at the tears I shed

For that chestnut horse had a place in my heart
Where the angels I worship dwell;
And he seemed of my very life a part
So this is the tale I tell.

Joe was ten to a day when he found the mare
With the new born foal at her side;
While with a proud and zealous air
She watched the youngster’s ambling stride;

And Joe with nimble feet and bare
Dashed down the garden path in leaps
To bring me tidings of my favorite mare
And ask me if the colt was his, “for keeps.”

“Oh, Dad, it’s a wonderful foal,” he said;
“With eyes like the sky above;
And a queer white mark in its little head
Like the stars in the flag we love.

You’ll let me name him now, of course,
Since you’ve given him all to me;
I’m going to make him a fighting horse
And call him ‘My Liberty’.

Ah, little soldier with sun-kissed hair,
Your boyhood dreams came true;
Those two gold stars in the window there
Mean the chestnut horse and you.

I helped Joe break him to drive and ride
And they won at the County show
While all the neighbors far and wide
Knew the chestnut horse and Joe.

The happy years that came between
Brought never a thought of fate,
Til the lad at last had reached eighteen
And the horse was counted eight;

And then the call to the colors came
And my boy was the first to go;
But the chestnut horse never seemed the same
After saying good-bye to Joe.

A neighbor’s boy was mustered in;
He had been Joe’s dearest chum;
They promised to stick through thick and thin
And to write if harm should come.

I hitched the chestnut up alone
And took the boys to the train;
Somehow the skies had darker grown,
And from the clouds the teardrops came.

While the precious moments flew away,
Joe whispered half in fun
“Send Liberty over to me some day
To help me catch a Hun.”

“You know I’ll love him wherever I am,
And the world is not so wide;
Just sell him some day to Uncle Sam
And we’ll meet on the other side.”

The train passed on with its clanging bell,
And the light of my life went too;
It seemed, alas, like some awful knell
As it disappeared from view.

The season wearily wore away
With its hopes and doubts and fears;
Joe’s face before me day by day
And his words in my aching ears;

So I sold the horse of my joy and pride
To a Captain I met by chance;
To do his bit on the “Other Side”
With the khaki boys in France.

Ah, little wonder the world stood still
And my tears in abundance fell,
As the chestnut turned at the top of the hill
And whinnied a last farewell.

The letters that came were full of cheer
And one held a poppy bloom.
The end of the war seemed very near
And the boys would be with us soon.

The Yanks were hot on the Boche’s track;
They were beating the hated Huns;
And Pershing was pushing them steadily back
In spite of their gas and guns.

And then a letter from Joe’s best friend,
“Sir, I promised to let you know;
They fought together to the end,
The chestnut horse and Joe.”

“Don’t grieve,” it said, “For the cause is won,
And they really have not died;
Their glorious lives have just begun;
They have met on the other side.”

Just a chestnut horse and a boy so fair;
Two forms that were stark and cold.
But the searchers paused in silent prayer
For the stars that had turned to gold.

And so each year as the Spring comes around,
I shall think of the poppies that blow
And nod their heads o’er the grassy mound
Of the chestnut horse and Joe.

Written by J. Harry Dunlop

(with files and permission from the New Hamburg Independent)