254 WHITMAN
Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the
Belle Aurore ! ' That he asked and that he got, nothing more.
Name and deed alike are lost: Not a pillar nor a post
In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell; Not a head in white and black On a single fishing smack,
In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack
All that France saved from the fight whence
England bore the bell. Go to Paris : rank on rank
Search the heroes flung pell-mell On the Louvre, face and flank !
You shall look long enough ere you come to
Herve Kiel.
So, for better and for worse, Herv6 Kiel, accept my verse ! In my verse, Herve Kiel, do thou once more Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife, the
Belle Aurore !
Browning.
C
THE DYING FIREMAN
I AM the mashed fireman with breast-bone broken, Tumbling walls buried me in their debris, Heat and smoke I inspired, I heard the yelling shouts of my comrades,
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