For the millions, to the Day, who’re “Standing to”
“Standing to”—in grim attesting to a Thought,
By the scars that weal Earth’s Face from sea to sea
In the pride to set the need of Life at naught
For the will to live a fancied Destiny;
Waiting, watching, till the hour of dree be gone,
Or muezzin-guns roar forth their hate anew—
O! Well may the world of Slumber slumber on,
For those watchers of the Dawn, who’re “Standing to.”
BRENTOMMAN.