Tide

We go down to the ocean
And scratch symbols in the sand,
Symbols that may or may not mean a thing.
At least they remind us of where we've been,
The direction we've come from,
So we can find our way back
When the fog is too thick to see the trees.
We feel safe when we remember this star-shape
Or this arrow-pierced heart bearing our names.
A million pieces of sand held together by the sea
Holding us together
Until the tide comes in.

-Ashe

In Barracks

The barrack-square, washed clean with rain,
Shines wet and wintry-grey and cold.
Young Fusiliers, strong-legged and bold,
March and wheel and march again.
The sun looks over the barrack gate,
Warm and white with glaring shine,
To watch the soldiers of the Line
That life has hired to fight with fate.

Fall out: the long parades are done.
Up comes the dark; down goes the sun.
The square is walled with windowed light.
Sleep well, you lusty Fusiliers;
Shut your brave eyes on sense and sight,
And banish from your dreamless ears
The bugle’s dying notes that say,
‘Another night; another day.’

--Siegfried Sassoon