INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918 755
WITH DRAKE IN THE TROPICS
(A. D.
COUTH and far south below the Line,
Our Admiral leads us on, Above, undreamed-of planets shine
The stars we knew are gone. Around, our clustered seamen mark
The silent deep ablaze With fires, through which the far-down shark
Shoots glimmering on his ways.
The sultry tropic breezes fail
That plagued us all day through; Like molten silver hangs our sail,
Our decks are dark with dew. Now the rank moon commands the sky,
Ho! Bid the watch beware And rouse all sleeping men that lie
Unsheltered in her glare.
How long the time 'twixt bell and bell!
How still our Ian thorns burn! How strange our whispered words that tell
Of England and return! Old towns, old streets, old friends, old loves,
We name them each to each, While the lit face of Heaven removes
Them farther from our reach.
Now is the utmost ebb of night
When mind and body sink, And loneliness and gathering fright
O'erwhelm us, if we think