Читать книгу On Patrol - Bower John Graham - Страница 6

WHEN all the guns are sponged and cleaned, and fuzes go to store,

when all the wireless stations cry – "come home, you ships of war" —

"come home again and leave patrol, no matter where you be."

We'll see the lights of England shine,

Flashing again on the steaming line,

As out of the dark the long grey hulls come rolling in from sea.

The long-forgotten lights will shine and gild the clouds ahead,

Over the dark horizon-line, across the dreaming dead

That went to sea with the dark behind and the spin of a coin before.

Mark the gleam of Orfordness,

Showing a road we used to guess,

From the Shetland Isles to Dover cliffs – the shaded lane of war.

Up the channel with gleaming ports will homing squadrons go,

And see the English coast alight with headlands all aglow

With thirty thousand candle-power flung up from far Gris-nez.

Portland Bill and the Needles' Light —

Tompions back in the guns to-night —

For English lights are meeting French across the Soldiers' Way.

When we come back to England then, with all the warring done,

And paint and polish come up the side to rule on tube and gun,

We'll know before the anchor's down, the tidings won't be new.

Lizard along to the Isle of Wight,

Every lamp was burning bright,

Northern Lights or Trinity House – we had the news from you!