There is a memory stays upon old ships,
A weightless cargo in the musty hold,-
Of bright lagoons and prow-caressing lips,
Of stormy midnights,-and a tale untold. ...
Give me the scorn of the stars and a peak defiant;
Wail of the pines and a wind with the shout of a giant;
Night and a trail unknown and a heart reliant.
Give me to live and love in the old, bold fashion;
A soldier's billet at night and a soldier's ration;
A heart that leaps to the fight with a soldier's passion.