Part 23 (1/2)

Tennyson's ”The Brook” is included out of love to a dear old schoolmate in Colorado. The real brook, near Cambridge, England, is tame compared to your Colorado streams, O beloved comrade. This poem is well liked by the majority of pupils. (1809-92.)

I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the br.i.m.m.i.n.g river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.

I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a l.u.s.ty trout, And here and there a grayling.

I steal by lawns and gra.s.sy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers.

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeams dance Against my sandy shallows.

I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my s.h.i.+ngly bars; I loiter round my cresses.

And out again I curve and flow To join the br.i.m.m.i.n.g river; For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

THE BALLAD OF THE ”CLAMPHERDOWN.”

”The Ballad of the _Clampherdown_,” by Rudyard Kipling, is included because my boys always like it. It needs a great deal of explanation, and few boys will hold out to the end in learning it. But ”it pays.”

(1865-.)

It was our war-s.h.i.+p _Clampherdown_ Would sweep the Channel clean, Wherefore she kept her hatches close When the merry Channel chops arose, To save the bleached marine.

She had one bow-gun of a hundred ton, And a great stern-gun beside; They dipped their noses deep in the sea, They racked their stays and stanchions free In the wash of the wind-whipped tide.

It was our war-s.h.i.+p _Clampherdown_, Fell in with a cruiser light That carried the dainty Hotchkiss gun And a pair o' heels wherewith to run, From the grip of a close-fought fight.

She opened fire at seven miles-- As ye shoot at a bobbing cork-- And once she fired and twice she fired, Till the bow-gun drooped like a lily tired That lolls upon the stalk.

”Captain, the bow-gun melts apace, The deck-beams break below, 'Twere well to rest for an hour or twain, And botch the shattered plates again.”

And he answered, ”Make it so.”

She opened fire within the mile-- As ye shoot at the flying duck-- And the great stern-gun shot fair and true, With the heave of the s.h.i.+p, to the stainless blue, And the great stern-turret stuck.

”Captain, the turret fills with steam, The feed-pipes burst below-- You can hear the hiss of helpless ram, You can hear the twisted runners jam.”

And he answered, ”Turn and go!”

It was our war-s.h.i.+p _Clampherdown_, And grimly did she roll; Swung round to take the cruiser's fire As the White Whale faces the Thresher's ire, When they war by the frozen Pole.

”Captain, the sh.e.l.ls are falling fast, And faster still fall we; And it is not meet for English stock, To bide in the heart of an eight-day clock, The death they cannot see.”

”Lie down, lie down, my bold A.B., We drift upon her beam; We dare not ram, for she can run; And dare ye fire another gun, And die in the peeling steam?”

It was our war-s.h.i.+p _Clampherdown_ That carried an armour-belt; But fifty feet at stern and bow, Lay bare as the paunch of the purser's sow, To the hail of the Nordenfeldt.

”Captain, they lack us through and through; The chilled steel bolts are swift!

We have emptied the bunkers in open sea, Their shrapnel bursts where our coal should be.”

And he answered, ”Let her drift.”