Ci)oug;f)ts anti Eeteries of an ...American Bluejacket... 3545 13 T5 *■" 'V ^ Ernest Vincent Wright. U. S. N. mm ^r Copyriahted 1918 by E. V. Wright Ci)oust)ts anti 3^f\)eritfi of an . . . American ^Sluejacfeet. . . by Ernest Vincent Wright, U. S. N. Copyrighted 1918 by E. V. Wright FEB -8 1918 ©CU491485 THE LONESOME BLUEJACKET Great multitudes who cheer and weep And smile thro' tear-dimmed eye. Line curb and windows, waving flags, To bid the boys good-bye. With martial music from the bands. The khaki-lads sweep past. While parents look, with sinking hearts. And sweethearts stand aghast. Thus goes the Army. Still, howe'er. Another force must go. Brave fellows too; proud, vigorous, strong. Yet they're sent, devoid of show. No blaring bands, no waving hands, — 'Tis lonesome as can be At midnight in the Navy Yard W^hen the Fleet puts out to sea ! Shore leave is o'er some hours before. And all whose homes are near, Have taken leave in privacy Of those they hold most dear. But wait ! Do all Jwrc folks to leave ? Nay ! Many there are like me. VV^ith no one living now, to care When the Fleet puts out to sea. In spite of guards, police and such, Some suffering feminine hearts Plunge madly down the gloomy pier Just as the vessel starts. With anguished gaze they scan the crew, — But nay ! It is not for me ; — Since mother died there's no one now Cares zvlicii I go to sea. Oh. for a fluttering handkerchief ! Oh, for a heart-felt sigh; At the gang-plank ! Oh, for a farewell kiss When the order comes, — "Stand by !" How I crave a pair of clinging arms To revive the Soul in me ! To hold on tight, like they'd forbid The Fleet to put to sea ! 1 Oh, well ! Maj^be when "over there," Where enemy submarines swarm, I'll do my part as well as those Who have some "folks at home." Home ? Ah, God ! That wondrous place Which mother made for me ! Henceforth 'tis where I hang my hat When the Fleet puts out to sea ! The great ships carry ponderous guns And thousands of tons of coal, But the heaviest thing by far on board Is a lonely sailor's Soul ! And when we're back, the boys will rush Into yearning arms they'll see. But I'll take a nap ; nobody cares When I come back from sea ! A SAILOR'S FRIENDS AT SEA When the fleet steams out at sunset And the sea is red and gold : When the dying day brings phantoms Of those happier days of old; Wlien timid stars are peeping Through the haze above the sea — Ah 1 Then departed loved ones Come back — to comfort me. When the true steel grey of twilight Spans the horizon's rim I see Dad's noble countenance And raise my eyes to him. The grandeur of the cloud-fields Recalls his love for me — And I love to feel he's watching As I'm way, way out at sea. 2 And when two tiny starlets Like sleepy babies blink My two wee sisters gaze at me. Their minds too young to think ; Yet watching, with their cherub eyes, As the dusk enshrouds the sea. I love to feel their innocence As a guardian over me. But ah ! When wondrous splendor Has set the heavens ablaze ! When scarlet, purple, green and pink Are pierced by golden rays ! Look there ! Up high ! Way over all ! Ah, God ! Thou art good to me To thus bring Mother's face — to cheer And guide me — out at sea ! Alas ! They're but sweet memories now, So I'll sail on each day; Knowing my sunset visitors will For the lonely days repay. And when the fleet half-masts its flags As it's apt to do — for me I'll try to cheer some sailor lad. As I gaze down on the sea OLD GLORY'S BRIDE Old Glory, long the Nation's pride, Supreme throughout the land so wide. Standing for Liberty, Peace and Love. Its record pure as the skies above, Comes, at last, to that stage of life Where he feels the need of a helpful wife To carry, with him, at least a share Of the many burdens he has to bear. So, in looking round, his leading thought Was that the lady surely ought To match his own complexion ; so He looked for one who'd cheeks aglow In red and white. Then, to his mind, Came the idea that could he find One blest with eyes like stars, she'd be The essence of propriety. He found her ; for he did not lag. And he called his bride "The Service Flag.' Quoth he, "I'll call the fighters out. I'll lead them as they march and shout. I'll spur them on thro' battle's heat. For I have never known defeat ! I'll show this fighting, war-mad age The finest troops of History's page !" "And." quoth his gentle bride. "I'll stay Outside their homes by night and day. I'll tell the world they've made the start And left home with a hero's heart! I'll show a star for every man. So get me every one you can ! While you, my brave, go forth to roam Your wife's place is. you know, at home." So let's all hail Old Glory's mate ! And let no person hesitate To give salute when passing by. A home from which she's seen to fly. For in those homes the hearts are sad. Yet swelled with hope that every lad Alay soon return, to see. with pride. His star upon Old Glory's bride ! STRANDS OF BLUE Why do we hear. "Help the khaki lads !' And "The boys who are over there?" Why does the slogan "Trenches first!" Ring out at you everywhere? Why is it ninety-nine per cent Of the knit goods are of brown? Is it because brown khaki suits Are common sights in town? But now and then, God bless her soul, Some noble little heart, Knits strands of blue ! So, maybe, then There is another part Of the fighting forces of the land! Why, certainly ! Hadn't you heard Of the great ships waiting off the coast, — Just waiting for the word? 'Tis cold in trenches, deep with mud, In a ditch up to your neck ; But didn't you know? Oh, dear me! Yes, It's also cold on deck Of a speeding lank torpedo-boat. Racing along its way! And the cold gets at your "innards" If you stand there night and day. "Boys in the trenches !" Tell me, please. How they got "over there !" They couldn't march ; they didn't swim ; Well, well, now, I declare ! It must have been the Navy lads ! Yes ! Sure ! That's how it came. That half a million khaki lads Got there to play the game ! The Navy lads ! The happy lads. Who sing and scrap and dance ! With hats shaped like a blueberry pie And their floppy, flappy pants ! Oh! They're real boys of sterling build; Who, while the "khakis" sleep. Shiver, while hunting periscopes, — Those terrors of the deep ! Hurrah ! I say, for the Army lads ! All honor their suits of brown ! Their courage, skill, integrity, Are objects of renown. But also "Hurrah !" loud and strong, For the brave bluejackets, too! And "hats off" to the little girl With her needles "cast on" with blue ! AT SEA Is a sailor lonely at sea? Ah! ask Of many a hundred men Whose folks are dead, whose one-time friends Will not think of them again. When the mail arrives 'tis a joyous hour For all but those, like me, Who have few blood-ties left, to write ; — Ah ! Then 'tis lonely at sea ! But look ! A note from an unknown friend ! (Or a post-card which cost a penny) And your name is called by the letter-clerk Instead of the gruflf "Not any !" How your name gleams out on the envelope As in days that used to be When all the departed loved ones wrote — Before it was lonely at sea ! A chance may come when maybe I Some valorous act may do Receiving, perhaps, an honor badge 'Midst the plaudits of the crew. Yet, where's the joy? No praise from "Dad." No mother's smile for me — Only a headline, perhaps, in print — And it's lonelier still — at sea ! 6 Some day the ship will start for "home," How that word makes you start When months and years its sound has not Been known inside your heart ! Of course our home's aboard the ship. Canst call it "home"? Ah. me! 'Tis slander, almost, on the word — My ! It's lonely at sea !" THE POWER OF A SMILE When your lonely and downhearted With your folks all dead and gone, And question whether living's worth the while ; When the world seems cold and boundless Though it's filled with others' joys. How you crave the warming sunshine of a smile ! After j'-ears of heartsick longing For the friendly welcome hand. The warmth of which upon your own remains. If you meet it unexpectedly How vain to even try To analyze the Power it contains ! How this hand and smile do reach The deep spots of your heart. Where cold and chill and hopelessness have dwelt ! What true, wholehearted beams of light Shine from a true friend's face. When trying to make a welcome really felt ! Then, see! The world seems brightening! Like darkness before dawn. The clouds of loneliness are fading fast ; The world seems almost rosy ! For smiles straight from a heart Can melt the wildest, coldest wintry blast. 7 I All the public orators Who ever stirred the world, Or poets with their sonnets that beguile, Cannot in all their glory- Even partially exert A fraction of the power of a smile. True welcome is a simple thing; — A smile of beaming warmth, A twinkling of the eyes, and that is all ; But with it comes that wondrous thing. That magic clasp of hand. Before which icy loneliness must fall. And so you'll find where'er j-ou go, No matter who you meet. The welcome there will never be worth while. Without that curious "something."' — That heaven-sent mystery Which puts such mighty power in a smile ! FOR BRAVERY? My little boy has died. The fight Was over in an hour ; The great ships circled, raced and belched Their holocausts of power. Whilst admiral and captain ruled He waved flags at their side. Just as he used to at my knee ; — But now "little boy" has died ! My "little" boy? Yes! Such he was! Though he was twenty-three, I saw him only as a babe, Just "little boy" to me ! And when his puppet soldiers fell. He'd stop if he saw I "cried." But, oh ! These great ships didn't stop ; — And — my little boy has died ! 8 Ah! What could he do? Why was he there! With his Httle flags to wave ? He used to pla.v with wee flags once. And march round, big and brave. While I — I watched and guided him 'Till he slumbered at my side. I must have slumbered too ; for now, My little boy has died. My little boy with his waving flags Has wandered from my knee. His little flags were found with him. As he floated on the sea. They're having a medal made for me. Inscribed upon one side "For bravery!" Nay! Put there, instead. "My little boy has died." ODE TO MY SWEATER 1 Cling round my form. oh. vest of wool; You. who have come to me From some unknown but generous friend As I m readj^ for the sea. Who sent you here ? What ? Speak up, loud ! Where are the nimble hands That made you, you warm-hearted thing. From simple woolen strands ? 2 Was it in school at recess time She passed all games aside. To "cast on eighty- four." to start You, object of her pride? Or was it at some college dance She wove your walls of grey? Or was she on a bed of pain? Oh, say not so, I pray ! 9 3 Were you made by a glowing hearth With lights down, soft and low? And did she sing, and gently rock A cradle with her toe? Or were you born in a trolley car With its clang and bang and lurch ? Or (whisper softly in my ear). Sh-h ! Were you made in church f 4 Don't tell me she was old and poor And great privations stood To save the money for the yarn To make you thick and good ! Whatever the story of your birth Please, please don't be so mean. Even if true, to say that you Were }}iadc on a machine! 5 Alay every blessing, every joy, And every happiness be The just reward of her, who sent You here, old chap, to me. And when your loving, clinging strands Around my form are curled. They'll prove American women are The finest in the world ! HANGING THE FLAG Should the star-field hang to right or left? Is asked by those of reason bereft. You'll find Old Glory, no matter how tied, Is never "back-to"; has no "wrong side!" Its stars, in battle, shone just as bright. Whether flown to left or waved to right. W'hichever side's exposed to view Its message of "Liberty" gleams at you ! Forget how the Star-Spangled Banner is hung ! Put your energies into getting it sung! Take out your flag from box or shelf (Or buy one today, if you've none, yourself) ; Hang it left or right, on pole or screen. But GET IT UP SOMEHOW, where it can be seen! 10 THE MASTERPIECE The Angels of Heaven, so they say Congregated one glorious day On a vast expanse of snowy clouds. They came in groups, they came in crowds ; For a contest, open to all. was on To see who best could improve upon The wonderful, exquisite things That throng the glorious Realms of Wings. One angel, noble and grand to see Displayed a beautiful flowering tree; Another a statue of fairy grace. — Wondrous of form, grand of face. Others exhilnted works of art. And lots of them chose the human heart As being more beautiful, as itself, Than anything known by man or elf. As the contest waged the multitudes Flocked to display their wondrous goods With "Oh's" and "Ah's" from far and wide. Till look ! Came an angel from one side. Hiding beneath her folded wing. Everyone felt, some exquisite thing. And the multitudes around her whirled As she delicately her wing unfurled. What was it? Radiance most serene. Or Art such angels ne'er had seen? Or was it a burst of music grand? Or a blossom supreme, made by her hand ? And why was that mighty concourse stilled W^ith admiration ; and rapture filled. As the Angel, known as Goodness, stood In the midst of that eager multitude? A Soul emerged from beneath her wing. It stood there in that mighty ring. A girlish figure in purest white Surrounded by a wondrous light Of Loyalty. Charity, Truth and Strength Of character. Love, until, at length The ring closed in with a joyous whirl. — And named the prize — "the American Girl !' 11 THE NAVY'S CHRISTMAS TREE It quietly came aboard, unseen. This wonderful, beautiful thing. And lay in hiding throughout the day Huddled in some dark passageway. With its carols all ready to sing. Through the terrible Dreadnaught. solely built To belch forth fire and death, The crew were lying in groups about. Their minds on Christmas at home, no doubt. With, perchance, a catch of the breath. 'Twas all so cruel, cold and hard. The sea so bare, so vast, It could not be that Christmas-tide Could find them on that waste so wide. And they fell asleep, — at last. But oh ! Behold ! When they awoke There, in their wondering gaze It stood; a beautiful thing of love. Bringing its message of peace above, — Shedding its love-lit rays ! Its scented boughs poured on the air. So pregnant with oil and steam. The real home odor of shady woods. It banished all thought of worldly goods ; It stood there ; a crystalized dream ! It whispered softly of peace on earth In this fortress of hell-fire here. But through its smiles, each tinsel rope Gradually drooped with departing hope, And each crystal turned to a tear ! Glistening tears were these tinsels gay Which bravely their smiles had kept ; But cannon and machine-guns, glum. Told of such bloodshed sure to come. That even the candles wept ! 12 "Oh! Load these cannon with love!" the}' cried, "Instead of powder ; and then Let go a broadside of Christmas joys That will smother the loudest battle's noise !" And the sailors sighed, "Amen !" MY GUARDIAN Since mother died I've often seen While gazing o'er the sea. Resplendent in the racing foam Her figure, watching me. It follows me thro storm and sun. It rides on the fleecy foam. And o'er the roar of the surf, I hear. Her plaintive plea, "Come home !" Full well, I know\ when battle comes. And our vessel belches flame. From every port, still shall 1 see My vision just the same. Bright as a light-ray from the Throne 'Twill shine thro the smoky air. Exalted, itself, o'er earthh' harm. Freed from all mortal care. And some day, should some mighty shell Snuflf out my lonely life. My vision will vacate at once The scenes of blood and strife; And when I fall, she'll quickly come Thro gas and smoke and gloam. With outstretched hand, — and I'll obey Her joyous cry, — "Come home !" 13 iiS^ '^ CONGRESS wm.