TO A NAVAL CADET
87
Well might a soul more staid
Than yours have been afraid
In whom th' encroaching sea no fear could waken,
So to your end you passed
Steadfast unto the last,
Bearing your boyhood's courage still unshaken.
But ere the icy breath
Of that grim spectre Death
Had any power to affright or pain you,
Hovered around your head
Shades of our Greater Dead—
I like to think—to welcome and sustain you.
For all your tender years,
Amidst your mother's tears
Still must there be one glowing thought of pride for her,
And those less fortunate
Must envy you your fate
So to have served your Land and to have died for her.
