  A BATTLE-PRAYER.SUBMARINES.WHEN the breaking wavelets pass all sparkling to the sky, When beyond their crests we see the slender masts go by, When the glimpses alternate in bubbles white and green, And funnels grey against the sky show clear and fair between, When the word is passed along—"Stern and beam and bow"— "Action stations fore and aft—all torpedoes now!" When the hissing tubes are still, as if with bated breath They waited for the word to loose the silver bolts of death, When the Watch beneath the Sea shall crown the great Desire, And hear the coughing rush of air that greets the word to fire, We'll ask for no advantage, Lord—but only we would pray That they may meet this boat of ours upon their outward way. THE BATTLE-FLEET.THE moment we have waited long Is closing on us fast, When, cutting short the turret-gong, We'll hear the Cordite's Battle-song That hails the Day at last. The clashing rams come driving forth To meet the waiting shell, And far away to East and North Our targets steam to meet Thy Wrath, And dare the Gates of Hell. We do not ask Thee, Lord, to-day To stay the sinking sun— But hear Thy steel-clad servants pray, And keep, O Lord, Thy mists away Until Thy work is done. DESTROYERS.THROUGH the dark night And the fury of battle Pass the destroyers in showers of spray. As the Wolf-pack to the flank of the cattle, We shall close in on them—shadows of grey. In from ahead, Through shell-flashes red, We shall come down to them, after the Day. Whistle and crash Of salvo and volley Round us and into us while we attack. Light on our target they'll flash in their folly, Splitting our ears with the shrapnel-crack. Fire as they will, We'll come to them still, Roar as they may at us—Back—Go Back! White though the sea To the shell-flashes foaming, We shall be there at the death of the Hun. Only we pray for a star in the gloaming (Light for torpedoes and none for a gun). Lord—of Thy Grace Make it a race, Over the sea with the night to run. |
|
