Awakened by another sailor, one stands A sleepy watch, leggings and dungarees, A Springfield rifle at right-shoulder arms, A-yawn, awash in midnight fog to guard A clothesline of national importance
In age
Brought now to sudden weary wakefulness By those eternal mysteries we muse, Bereft by noisy day’s false comforts, we Begin the nocturnal lessons of truth Because some nights we must stand watch again.