Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
The Rowers
(When Germany proposed that England should help her in a naval demonstration to collect debts from Venezuela.)
T
And backed and threshed and ground,
But bitter was the rowers’ song
As they brought the war-boat round.
That makes the whale-bath smoke—
When the great blades cleave and hold and leave
As one on the racing stroke.
And steer her by what star,
If we come unscathed from the Southern deep
To be wrecked on a Baltic bar?
But seaward still we go.
And you tell us now of a secret vow
You have made with an open foe!
And haul and back and veer,
At the will of the breed that have wronged us most
For a year and a year and a year!
They laid not to our door—
And you say we must take the winter sea
And sail with them once more?
That stripped and laid us down,
When we stood forth but they stood fast
And prayed to see us drown.
Our wounds are bleeding yet—
And you tell us now that our strength is sold
To help them press for a debt!
That use upon the seas,
Was there no other fleet to find
That you strike hands with these?
On evil fate to fall,
What brooding Judgment let you loose
To pick the worst of all?
O’er half the world to run—
With a cheated crew, to league anew
With the Goth and the shameless Hun!”