We pulled for you when the wind was against us and the sails were low. Will you never let us go? We ate bread and onions when you took towns, or ran aboard quickly when you were beaten back by the foe....
Once we feared The Beast when he followed us we ran, Ran very fast though we knew It was not right that The Beast should master Man; But what could we Flint-workers do?...
'And thou shalt make a candlestick of pure gold: of beaten work shall the candlestick be made: his shaft, and his branches, his bowls, his knops, and his flowers, shall be of the same . . . . ...
Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady! Watch for a smooth! Give way! If she feels the lop already She'll stand on her head in the bay. It's ebb,it's dusk,it's blowing, The shoals are a mile of white,...
When the darkened Fifties dip to the North, And frost and the fog divide the air, And the day is dead at his breaking-forth, Sirs, it is bitter beneath the Bear!
Once again the Steamer at Calais, the tackles Easing the car-trays on to the quay. Release her! Sign-refill, and let me away with my horses. (Seventy Thundering Horses!)...
This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone, Erst a Pretender to Theebaw's throne, Who harried the district of Alalone: How he met with his fate and the V.P.P.* At the hand of Harendra Mukerji,...
Seven men from all the world back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give the girls another drink 'fore we sign away, We that took the BOLIVAR out across the Bay! ...
Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,...
That night, when through the mooring-chains The wide-eyed corpse rolled free, To blunder down by Garden Reach And rot at Kedgeree, The tale the Hughli told the shoal The lean shoal told to me. ...
One moment bid the horses wait, Since tiffin is not laid till three, Below the upward path and straight You climbed a year ago with me. Love came upon us suddenly And loosed, an idle hour to kill,...
Seven men from all the world back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give the girls another drink 'fore we sign away, We that took the Bolivar out across the Bay! ...
It was our war-ship Clampherdown Would sweep the Channel clean, Wherefore she kept her hatches close When the merry Channel chops arose, To save the bleached marine. ...
When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the frails, Light are the purses but heavy the bales,...
Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told. His mercy fills the Khyber hills, his grace is manifold; He has taken toll of the North and the South, his glory reacheth far,...