A smith makes me To betray my Man In my first fight. To gather Gold At the world's end I am sent. The Gold I gather Comes into England Out of deep Water. Like a shining Fish Then it descends Into deep Water. It is not given For goods or gear, But for The Thing. The Gold I gather A King covets For an ill use The Gold I gather Is drawn up Out of deep Water. Like a shining Fish Then it descends Into deep Water. It is not given For goods or gear, But for The Thing.
Return to the Rudyard Kipling library , or . . . Read the next poem; The Runners