Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/189

Rh Man made me, and my will Is to my maker still, Whom now the currents con, the rollers steer— Lifting forlorn to spy Trailed smoke along the sky, Falling afraid lest any keel come near!

Wrenched as the lips of thirst, Wried, dried, and split and burst, Bone-bleached my decks, wind-scoured to the graining; And, jarred at every roll, The gear that was my soul Answers the anguish of my beams’ complaining.

For life that crammed me full, Gangs of the prying gull That shriek and scrabble on the riven hatches. For roar that dumbed the gale, My hawse-pipes guttering wail, Sobbing my heart out through the uncounted watches.

Blind in the hot blue ring Through all my points I swing— Swing and return to shift the sun anew. Blind in my well-known sky I hear the stars go by, Mocking the prow that cannot hold one true.

White on my wasted path Wave after wave in wrath Frets ’gainst his fellow, warring where to send me. Flung forward, heaved aside, Witless and dazed I bide The mercy of the comber that shall end me.