There was no waving. Nobody made a sound.
Ship after ship, with never a cheer or song.
Only the White Star whispered where they were bound,
Only the pilot-flags fluttered: 'It won't be long'.

There was no waving. Suddenly they were gone.
Huddled on deck, they quietly slipped to sea.
They looked down dumbly, trying their life-belts on,
And we saluted the White Star-sign of the free.

The ships came back-and there was no waving then.
It is too soon, they said, for the song and dance:
But we saluted the ships and the silent men
Who took the White Star over the sea to France.
June 11, 1944