THE SEA AND THE HILLS WHO hath desired the Sea?-the sight of salt water unbounded The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded? The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foam less, enormous, and growing Stark calm on the lap of the Line or the crazy-eyed hurricane blowing His Sea is no showing the same-his Sea and the same 'neath each showing His Sea as she slackens or thrills? So and no otherwise-so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills! Who hath desired the Sea ?-the immense and con temptuous surges ? The shudder, the stumble, the swerve, as the star stabbing bowsprit emerges? The orderly clouds of the Trades, and the ridged, roaring sapphire thereunder Unheralded cliff-haunting flaws and the head-sail's low-volleying thunder His Sea in no wonder the same-his Sea and the same through each wonder: His Sea as she rages or stills? So and no otherwise-so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills. Who hath desired the Sea? Her menaces swift as her mercies, The in-rolling walls of the fog and the silver-winged breeze that disperses? The unstable mined berg going South and the calvings and groans that declare it; White water half-guessed overside and the moon breaking timely to bare it; His Sea as his fathers have dared-his Sea as his children shall dare it His Sea as she serves him or kills? So and no otherwise-so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills. Who hath desired the Sea? Her excellent loneliness rather Than forecourts of kings, and her outermost pits than the streets where men gather THE SEA AND THE HILLS Inland, among dust, under trees-inland where the slayer may slay him Inland, out of reach of her arms, and the bosom. whereon he must lay him His Sea at the first that betrayed-at the last that shall never betray him His Sea that his being fulfils? So and no otherwise-so and no otherwise hillmen desire their Hills. THE BELL BUOY THEY christened my brother of old- At the head of the belfry-stairs, And the breeding kestrels cry. Would I change with my brother a league inland? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I! In the flush of the hot June prime, I hear him hurry the chime To the bidding of checked Desire; Till the sweated ringers tire And the wild bob-majors die. Could I wait for my turn in the godly choir? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I! Copyright, 1896, by Rudyard Kipling. THE BELL BUOY When the smoking scud is blown, He counts the changeless hours. He wars with darkling Powers (I war with a darkling sea); Would he stoop to my work in the gusty mirk? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not he! There was never a priest to pray, There was never a hand to toll, When they made me guard of the bay, And moored me over the shoal. I rock, I reel, and I roll My four great hammers ply Could I speak or be still at the Church's will? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I! The landward marks have failed, The spent deep feigns her rest: But my ear is laid to her breast, I lift to the swell-I cry! Could I wait in sloth on the Church's oath? (Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I! |