Then Uncle Sam’l went to war and hadn’t any boats, Or not enough to guard the stormy green, And so he said to Mr. Wall: “I’ll take your six-feet-over-all And set it out to get the call Upon the submarine.”
“A cruising-fighter? Never!” (The experts chorused that.) “She’ll sink before she’s half-way out to France”; But Sam cut out her bathtubs white, He painted her a perfect fright And loaded her with dynamite; Says he: “I’ll take a chance.”
“Good-night!” said Wall of Wall St.; the experts said it, too; But Uncle Sam was sot and sibylline; His little plan, it warn’t a josh: Wall’s boat ’s as dry ’s a mackintosh; She fights, b’ gum; what’s more, b’ gosh, She gits the submarine!
Thou art no longer here, No longer shall we see thy face. But, in that other place, Where may be heard The roar of the world rushing down the wantways of the stars; And the silver bars Of heaven’s gate Shine soft and clear: Thou mayest wait.
No longer shall we see Thee walking in the crowded streets, But where the ocean of the Future beats Against the flood-gates of the Present, swirling to this earth,
Another birth Thou mayest have; Another Arcady May thee receive. Not here thou dost remain, Thou art gone far away, Where, at the portals of the day, The hours ever dance in ring, a silvern-footed throng,
While time looks on, And seraphs stand Choiring an endless strain On either hand.
Thou canst return no more; Not as the happy time of spring Comes after winter burgeoning On wood and wold in folds of living green, for thou art dead.
Our tears we shed In vain, for thou Dost pace another shore, Untroubled now.
Was there ever a game we did not share, Brother of mine? Or a day when I did not play you fair, Brother of mine? “As good as a boy,” you used to say, And I was as eager for the fray, And as loath to cheat or to run away, Brother of mine!
You are playing the game that is straight and true, Brother of mine, And I’d give my soul to stand next to you, Brother of mine. The spirit, indeed, is still the same; I would not shrink from the battle’s flame, Yet here I stay--at the woman’s game, Brother of mine!
If the last price must needs be paid, Brother of mine, You will go forward, unafraid, Brother of mine. Death can so small a part destroy, You will have known the fuller joy-- Ah! would that I had been born a boy, Brother of mine!