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Home  »  Rudyard Kipling’s Verse  »  With Drake in the Tropics

Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.

With Drake in the Tropics

(A.D. 1580)

SOUTH 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 lanthorns 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—

Yet, look, where in his room apart,

All windows opened wide,

Our Admiral thrusts away the chart

And comes to walk outside.

Kindly, from man to man he goes,

With comfort, praise, or jest,

Quick to suspect our childish woes,

Our terror and unrest.

It is as though the sun should shine—

Our midnight fears are gone!

South and far south below the Line,

Our Admiral leads us on!