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

They 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.