‘Rise,' said the Master, ‘come unto the feast.'
She heard the call and rose with willing feet;
But thinking it not otherwise than meet
For such a bidding to put on her best, ...
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.