Page:Fifes and Drums, Poems of America at War, Vigilantes, 1917.djvu/63



are on our way back Home—

Home where the high flag flies;

We are on our way from the rut

With the flag lust in our eyes;

So those of you in the van,

Hark to our warning song—

"Give us the open road

Till we land where we belong."

Soft we had grown and fat—

Watching the Shadow creep;

Soft with the dull content

Of those who are half asleep;

But the Eagle's place is the peak,

And now, by her lands and seas,