Page:Lyra heroica.djvu/279

 I heard the distant click of their picks and shovels, They have cleared the beams away, they tenderly lift me forth.

I lie in the night air in my red shirt, the pervading

hush is for my sake,

Painless after all I lie, exhausted but not so unhappy, White and beautiful are the faces around me, the

heads are bared of their fire-caps, The kneeling crowd fades with the light of the torches.

ci A SEA-FIGHT

WOULD you hear of an old-time sea-fight?

Would you learn who won by the light of the moon

and stars? List to the yarn, as my grandmother's father the

sailor told it to me.

'Our foe was no skulk in his ship, I tell you (said he), His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be; Along the lowered eve he came horribly raking us.

We closed with him, the yards entangled, the

cannon touched, My captain lashed fast with his own hnmls.

We had received some eighteen-pound shots under

the water, On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst

at the first fire, killing all around and blowing

up overhead.

�� �