312 RUDYARD KIPLING'S VERSE
I
Do you know the blackened timber do you know that racing
stream
With the raw, right-angled log-jam at the end; And the bar of sun-warmed shingle where a man may bask
and dream
To the click of shod canoe-poles round the bend ? It is there that we are going with our rods and reels and traces,
To a silent, smoky Indian that we know To a couch of new-pulled hemlock, with the starlight on our
faces, For the Red Gods call us out and we must go!
They must go go, etc.
II
Do you know the shallow Baltic where the seas are steep and
short,
Where the bluff, lee-boarded fishing-luggers ride? Do you know the joy of threshing leagues to leeward of your
port
On a coast you've lost the chart of overside? It is there that I am going, with an extra hand to bale her
Just one able 'long-shore loafer that I know. He can take his chance of drowning, while I sail and sail and
sail her, For the Red Gods call me out and I must go!
He must go go, etc.
Ill
Do you know the pile-built village where the sago-dealers
trade
Do you know the reek of fish and wet bamboo? Do you know the steaming stillness of the orchid-scented
glade