return to shift the sun anew.
Blind in my well-known sky
I hear the stars go by,
Mocking the prow that can not hold one true!

White on my wasted path
Wave after wave in wrath
Frets 'gainst his fellow, warring where to send me.
Flung forward, heaved aside,
Witless and dazed I bide
The mercy of the comber that shall end me.

North where the bergs careen,
The spray of seas unseen
Smokes round my head and freezes in the falling;
South where the corals breed,
The footless, floating weed
Folds me and fouls me, strake on strake upcrawling.

I that was clean to run
My race against the sun--
Strength on the deep, am bawd to all disaster--
Whipped forth by night to meet
My sister's careless feet,
And with a kiss betray her to my master!

Man made me, and my will
Is to my maker still--
To him and his, our peoples at their pier:
Lifting in hope to spy
Trailed smoke along the sky;
Falling afraid lest any keel come near!

THE SONG OF THE BANJO.

You couldn't pack a Broadwood half a mile--
You mustn't leave a fiddle in the damp--
You couldn't raft an organ up the Nile,
And play it in an Equatorial swamp.
_I_ travel with the cooking-pots and pails--
_I_'m sandwiched 'tween the coffee and the pork--
And when the dusty column checks and tails,
You should hear me spur the rearguard to a walk!

With my "_Pilly-willy-winky-winky popp!_"
[O it's any tune that comes into my head!]
So I keep 'em moving forward till they drop;
So I play 'em up to water and to bed.

In the silence of the camp before the fight,
When it's good to make your will and say your prayer,
You can hear my _strumpty-tumpty_ overnight
Explaining ten to one was always fair.
I'm the prophet of the Utterly Absurd,
Of the Patently Impossible and Vain--
And when the Thing that Couldn't has occurred,
Give me time to change my leg and go again.

With my "_Tumpa-tumpa-tumpa-tum-pa tump!_"
In the desert where the dung-fed camp-smoke curled
There was never voice before us till I led our lonely chorus,
I--the war-drum of the White Man round the world!

By the bitter road the Younger Son must tread,
Ere he win to