Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/219



Clive kissed me on the mouth and eyes and brow, Wonderful kisses, so that I became Crowned above Queens a withered beldame now, Brooding on ancient fame.

Hail, Mother! Do they call me rich in trade? Little care I, but hear the shorn priest drone, And watch my silk-clad lovers, man by maid, Laugh 'neath my Shwe Dagon.

Hail, Mother! East and West must seek my aid Ere the spent hull may dare the ports afar. The second doorway of the wide world's trade Is mine to loose or bar.

Hail, Mother! Hold me fast; my Praya sleeps Under innumerable keels to-day. Yet guard (and landward), or to-morrow sweeps Thy warships down the bay!

Into the mist my guardian prows put forth, Behind the mist my virgin ramparts lie, The Warden of the Honour of the North, Sleepless and veiled am I !

Peace is our portion. Yet a whisper rose, Foolish and causeless, half in jest, half hate. Now wake we and remember mighty blows, And, fearing no man, wait!