II

It’s “Friend or foe?” when signals blow
  And ships sight ships at sea;
It’s clear for action, and man the guns,
As the battle nears or the battle runs;—­
  And you’ll remember me,
        Sweetheart,
  And you’ll remember me.

III

It’s deck to deck, and wrath and wreck
  When ships meet ships at sea;
It’s scream of shot and shriek of shell,
And hull and turret a roaring hell;—­
  And you’ll remember me,
        Sweetheart,
  And you’ll remember me.

IV

It’s doom and death, and pause a breath
  When ships go down at sea;
It’s hate is over and love begins,
And war is cruel whoever wins;—­
  And you’ll remember me,
        Sweetheart,
  And you’ll remember me.

The “Kentucky"

  (Battleship, launched March 24, 1898.)

I

Here’s to her who bears the name
    Of our State;
May the glory of her fame
    Be as great! 
In the battle’s dread eclipse,
When she opens iron lips,
When our ships confront the ships
    Of the foe,
May each word of steel she utters carry woe! 
    Here’s to her!

II

Here’s to her, who, like a knight
    Mailed of old,
From far sea to sea the Right
    Shall uphold. 
May she always deal defeat,—­
When contending navies meet,
And the battle’s screaming sleet
    Blinds and stuns,—­
With the red, terrific thunder of her guns. 
    Here’s to her!

III

Here’s to her who bears the name
    Of our State;
May the glory of her fame
    Be as great! 
Like a beacon, like a star,
May she lead our squadrons far,—­
When the hurricane of war
    Shakes the world,—­
With her pennant in the vanward broad unfurled. 
    Here’s to her!

Quatrains

I

MOTHS AND FIREFLIES

Since Fancy taught me in her school of spells
I know her tricks—­These are not moths at all,
Nor fireflies; but masking Elfland belles
Whose link-boys torch them to Titania’s ball.

II

AUTUMN WILD-FLOWERS

Like colored lanterns swung in Elfin towers,
Wild morning-glories light the tangled ways,
And, like the rosy rockets of the Fays,
Burns the sloped crimson of the cardinal-flowers.

III

THE WIND IN THE PINES

When winds go organing through the pines
On hill and headland, darkly gleaming,
Meseems I hear sonorous lines
Of Iliads that the woods are dreaming.