The Men Who Sleep With Danger

The men who camp with Danger     Are mostly quiet men:     And one may use a rifle,     And one may use a pen,     And one may strap a camera     In deserts to his bike;     But men who sleep with Danger     Are pretty much alike.     To men in places pleasant     Or in the barren West     Theres Danger ever present,     A half unheeded guest.     But, thoughtful for the stranger,     The timid or the weak,     The men who camp with Danger     Keep watch but do not speak.     The men who go with Danger     Are mostly dreamy-eyed     Upon the swooping focsle.     Or by the camp-fire side,     And when they sit in darkness,     To show us where they are:     The glowing of a pipe-bowl     And often a cigar     The men who camp with Danger     Have quiet humour too,     And songs that youve forgotten,     And real good yarns for you.     Theres little you can tell them     Of yourself or your own     That men whove lived with Danger     Have never felt or known.     The men who sleep with Danger     Sleep soundly while they may,     But always wake at midnight     Or just before the day.     A something in the darkness     That shudders at the dawn,     A side-mate softly wakened,     A rifle swiftly drawn.     The men who sail with Danger     As actors are ideal:     They lightly laugh to fool you     When Dangers very real.     The men who sail with Danger     A wondrous insight have:     They know if you are timid,     They know if you are brave.     The stewards set the tables     With careless, practised care,     And take accustomed comforts     To sea-sick cabins there.     They knock at doors of state-rooms     With broth and tea and toast,     While well they know, its touch and go,     And death sits on the coast.     The man who lives with Danger     Has knowledge all his own;     The instinct of a woman,     Of men who fight alone.     He learns from peace and comfort,     He learns from care and strife;     Unwittingly from all things     And from his native wife.     The men who live with Danger     See sermons in a log;     They have the nerves of horses,     The instincts of a dog,     When illness comes to loved ones     They know whereer they roam,     Have you seen, without for reason,     A farther start for home?     They know and feel our "warnings"     As only Gipsies do;     They know the Norse Vardoger,     They hear and see it, too.     They know when death has passed them,     And the death watch is at end.     They know when he is coming,     The Unexpected Friend.     The men who live with Danger,     They take things as they go,     In seeming unpreparedness,     To those who do not know.     They sleep when they have toiled and laughed     And fought for someones sake;     But Danger whispers in their ear,     And they are wide awake !