 | Poems: New and Old |  |
55
The King's Highway
When moonlight flecks the cruiser's decks
And engines rumble slow,
When Drake's own star is bright above
And Time has gone below,
They may hear who list the far-off sound
Of a long-dead never-dead mirth,
In the mid watch still they may hear who will
The Song of the Larboard Berth.
And engines rumble slow,
When Drake's own star is bright above
And Time has gone below,
They may hear who list the far-off sound
Of a long-dead never-dead mirth,
In the mid watch still they may hear who will
The Song of the Larboard Berth.
In a dandy frigate or a well-found brig,
In a sloop or a seventy-four,
In a great Firstrate with an Admiral's flag
And a hundred guns or more,
In a fair light air, in a dead foul wind,
At midnight or midday,
Till the good ship sink her mids shall drink
To the King and the King's Highway!
In a sloop or a seventy-four,
In a great Firstrate with an Admiral's flag
And a hundred guns or more,
In a fair light air, in a dead foul wind,
At midnight or midday,
Till the good ship sink her mids shall drink
To the King and the King's Highway!
The mids they hear—no fear, no fear!
They know their own ship's ghost:
Their young blood beats to the same old song
And roars to the same old toast.
So long as the sea-wind blows unbound
And the sea-wave breaks in spray,
For the Island's sons the word still runs—
“The King, and the King's Highway!”
They know their own ship's ghost:
Their young blood beats to the same old song
And roars to the same old toast.
56
And the sea-wave breaks in spray,
For the Island's sons the word still runs—
“The King, and the King's Highway!”
| Poems: New and Old | |