IT is not far to go;
It is not long to wait;
Red on the coals and low
Our bivouac-fires burn late.
The night is in the sky,
The snow is on the steep:
Hope of the dawning nigh
Has held our hearts from sleep.
A little while, and red
The flash of dawn shall thrill
The gray clouds overhead,
The far snow-crested hill:
And through the wide-flung gate
God’s morning bugles blow.
It is not long to wait.
It is not far to go.