Only, through the snowflakes sped a rift of light,
Keen as pointed sword-blade and intensely bright—
Like the Lord's hand resting on the ranks of right.
And our hearts would send you, as a song of spring,
Unforgotten echoes of the songs you sing,
And the hope and courage that the new days bring.
Here's our love and greeting from the old home town;
Here's to speedy meeting, and to your renown;
Here's to every gallant heart in the khaki brown!