Tin Fish

by


The ships destroy us above
And ensnare us beneath.
We arise, we lie down, and we
In the belly of Death.

The ships have a thousand eyes
To mark where we come...
But the mirth of a seaport dies
When our blow gets home.

0

facebook share button twitter share button reddit share button share on pinterest pinterest


Add Tin Fish to your library.

Return to the Rudyard Kipling library , or . . . Read the next poem; To A Lady, Persuading Her To A Car

© 2024 AmericanLiterature.com