Mark the gleam of Orfordness,
Showing a road we used to guess,
From the Shetland Isles to Dover cliffs—the shaded lane of war.
Up the channel with gleaming ports will homing squadrons go,
And see the English coast alight with headlands all aglow
With thirty thousand candle-power flung up from far Gris-nez.
Portland Bill and the Needles' Light—
Tompions back in the guns to-night—
For English lights are meeting French across the Soldiers' Way.
When we come back to England then, with all the warring done,