<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="center" class="head">Kitchener</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line"><span class="smallcaps">There</span> is wild water from the north;</p><p class="line">The headlands darken in their foam</p><p class="line">As with a threat of challenge stubborn earth</p><p class="line">Booms at that far wild sea-line charging home.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">The night shall stand upon the shifting sea</p><p class="line">As yesternight stood there,</p><p class="line">And hear the cry of waters through the air,</p><p class="line">The iron voice of headlands start and rise --</p><p class="line">The noise of winds for mastery</p><p class="line">That screams to hear the thunder in those cries.</p><p class="line">But now henceforth there shall be heard</p><p class="line">From Brough of Bursay , Marwick Head,</p><p class="line">And shadows of the distant coast,</p><p class="line">Another voice bestirred --</p><p class="line">Telling of something greatly lost</p><p class="line">Somewhere below the tidal glooms, and dead.</p><p class="line">Beyond the uttermost</p><p class="line">Of aught the night may hear on any seas</p><p class="line">From tempest-known wild water's cry, and roar</p><p class="line">Of iron shadows looming from the shore,</p><p class="line">It shall be heard, and when the Orcades</p><p class="line">Sleep in a hushed Atlantic's starry folds</p><p class="line">As smoothly as, far down below the tides,</p><p class="line">Sleep on the windless broad sea-wolds</p><p class="line">Where this night's shipwreck hides.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">By many a sea-holm where the shock</p><p class="line">Of ocean's battle falls, and into spray</p><p class="line">Gives up its ghosts of strife; by reef and rock</p><p class="line">Ravaged by their eternal brute affray</p><p class="line">With monstrous frenzies of their shore's green foe;</p><p class="line">Where overstream and overfall and undertow</p><p class="line">Strive, snatch away;</p><p class="line">A wistful voice, without a sound,</p><p class="line">Shall dwell beside Pomona, on the sea,</p><p class="line">And speak the homeward- and the outward-bound,</p><p class="line">And touch the helm of passing minds</p><p class="line">And bid them steer as wistfully --</p><p class="line">Saying: "He did great work, until the winds</p><p class="line">And waters hereabout that night betrayed</p><p class="line">Him to the drifting death! His work went on --</p><p class="line">He would not be gainsaid....</p><p class="line">Though where his bones are, no man knows, not one!"</p></div><p class="byline">John Helston</p></body></html> · Great War