—That sighs in the breezes or throbs in the roar
Of the tempest; and ever the cry is for “More.‘’
And we men with our axes and horn-covered
palms
Hear the call as a man hears the summons “To
arms,”
And forward we plunge with no quarter, no
truce,
With axes a-gleam in the realms of King Spruce.
The duffle is packed, and the babies are smacked;