Now the fall was ordained from the first With the Goat and the Cliff and the Tarn, But the Stone Knows only her life is accursed As she sinks from the light of the Sun Oh Thou Who has builded the World, The sin of the Stone that was hurled SONG OF THE RED WAR-BOAT (A. D. 683) SHOVE off from the wharf-edge! Steady! If she feels the lop already She'll stand on her head in the bay. For we hold that in all disaster Raging seas have we rowed in Heavy odds have we taken, The Gods know they are forsaken, Over the crest she flies from, The thunders bellow and clamour Close! But the blow has missed her, Heark 'ee, Thor of the Thunder! For we hold that in all disaster- That is our way of thinking, Now you can do as you will, While we try to save her from sinking, Bale her and keep her moving, Sodden, and chafed and aching, In oars, and out with the mead- But we hold that in all disaster MINE SWEEPERS 1914-18 DAWN off the Foreland-the young flood making Jumbled and short and steep Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking Awkward water to sweep. "Mines reported in the fairway, "Warn all traffic and detain. "Sent up Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain." Noon off the Foreland-the first ebb making Lumpy and strong in the bight. Boom after boom, and the golf-hut shaking "Boats now working up the chain, "Sweepers-Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain." Dusk off the Foreland-the last light going And five damned trawlers with their syreens blowing "Sweep completed in the fairway. "No more mines remain. "'Sent back Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain." MORNING SONG IN THE JUNGLE ONE moment past our bodies cast Now clear and black they stride our track, In morning hush, each rock and bush Now horn and pelt our peoples melt Now, crouched and still, to cave and hill Now, stark and plain, Man's oxen strain, Ho! Get to lair! The sun's aflare And creaking through the young bamboo By day made strange, the woods we range While down the skies the wild duck cries: The dew is dried that drenched our hide, And where we drank, the puddled bank The traitor Dark gives up each mark BLUE ROSES ROSES red and roses white Plucked I for my love's delight. She would none of all my posies- 'Pond or lake. |