Rudyard Kipling Quote

In the flush of the hot June prime,
O'ersleek flood-tides afire,
I hear him hurry the chime
To the bidding of checked Desire;
Till the sweated ringers tire
And the wild bob-majors die.
Could I wait for my turn in the godly choir?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!


The Bell Buoy.

The Bell Buoy


In the flush of the hot June prime, O'ersleek flood-tides afire, I hear him hurry the chime To the bidding of checked Desire; Till the sweated...

In the flush of the hot June prime, O'ersleek flood-tides afire, I hear him hurry the chime To the bidding of checked Desire; Till the sweated...

In the flush of the hot June prime, O'ersleek flood-tides afire, I hear him hurry the chime To the bidding of checked Desire; Till the sweated...

In the flush of the hot June prime, O'ersleek flood-tides afire, I hear him hurry the chime To the bidding of checked Desire; Till the sweated...