Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/357

 THE BELL BUOY

1896 hey christened my brother of old— And a saintly name he bears— They gave him his place to hold At the head of the belfry-stairs, Where the minister-towers stand 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, O'er sleek flood-tides afire, 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!

When the smoking scud is blown— When the greasy wind-rack lowers— Apart and at peace and alone, 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.