The Dykes
We have no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar--All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more;All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny--There is no proof in the bread we eat or rest in the toil we ply.
Look you, our foreshore stretches far through sea-gate, dyke, andgroin--Made land all, that our fathers made, where the flats and the fairwayjoin.They forced the sea a sea-league back. They died, and their workstood fast.We were born to peace in the lee of the dykes, but the time of ourpeace is past.
Far off, the full tide clambers and slips, mouthing and testingall,Nipping the flanks of the water-gates, baying along the wall;Turning the shingle, returning the shingle, changing the set of thesand ...We are too far from the beach, men say, to know how the outworksstand.
So we come down, uneasy, to look, uneasily pacing the beach.These are the dykes our fathers made: we have never known abreach.Time and again has the gale blown by and we were not afraid;Now we come only to look at the dykes--at the dykes our fathersmade.
O’er the marsh where the homesteads cower apart the harried sunlightflies,Shifts and considers, wanes and recovers, scatters and sickens anddies--An evil ember bedded in ash--a spark blown west by the wind ...We are surrendered to night and the sea--the gale and the tidebehind!
At the bridge of the lower saltings the cattle gather and blare,Roused by the feet of running men, dazed by the lantern glare.Unbar and let them away for their lives--the levels drown as theystand,Where the flood-wash forces the sluices aback and the ditches deliverinland.
Ninefold deep to the top of the dykes the galloping breakers stride,And their overcarried spray is a sea--a sea on the landward side.Coming, like stallions they paw with their hooves, going they snatchwith their teeth,Till the bents and the furze and the sand are dragged out, and theold-time wattles beneath!
Bid men gather fuel for fire, the tar and the oil and the tow--Flame we shall need, not smoke, in the dark if the riddled seabanksgo.Bid the ringers watch in the tower (who knows what the dawn shallprove?)Each with his rope between his feet and the trembling bells above.
Now we can only wait till the day, wait and apportion our shame.These are the dykes our fathers left, but we would not look to thesame.Time and again were we warned of the dykes, time and again wedelayed:Now, it may fall, we have slain our sons as our fathers we havebetrayed.
Walking along the wreck of the dykes, watching the work of the seas,These were the dykes our fathers made to our great profit and ease;But the peace is gone and the profit is gone, and the old sure daywithdrawn ...That our own houses show as strange when we come back in the dawn!
Words in this poem
- fairway n.
- The navigable part of a river, bay, etc., through which vessels enter or depart; the part of a harbor or channel ehich is kept open and unobstructed for the passage of vessels. Totten. the rough.
- shingle n.
- Round, water-worn, and loose gravel and pebbles, or a collection of roundish stones, such as are common on the seashore and elsewhere. [Prob. from Norw. singl, singling, coarse gravel, small round stones.]
- uneasily adv.
- In an uneasy manner.
- ember n.
- A lighted coal, smoldering amid ashes; -- used chiefly in the plural, to signify mingled coals and ashes; the smoldering remains of a fire. [OE. emmeres, emeres, AS. ; akin to Icel. eimyrja, Dan. emmer, MHG. eimere; cf. Icel. eimr vapor, smoke.]
- bedded a.
- Provided with a bed; as, double-bedded room; placed or arranged in a bed or beds.
- blare v. i.
- To sound loudly and somewhat harshly. [OE. blaren, bloren, to cry, woop; cf. G. plärren to bleat, D. blaren to bleat, cry, weep. Prob. an imitative word, but cf. also E. blast. Cf. Blore.]
- glare v. i.
- To shine with a bright, dazzling light. [OE. glaren, gloren; cf. AS. glær amber, LG. glaren to glow or burn like coals, D. gloren to glimmer; prob. akin to E. glass.]
- unbar v. t.
- To remove a bar or bars from; to unbolt; to open; as, to unbar a gate. Heber. [1st pref. un- + bar.]
- aback n.
- An abacus. B. Jonson.
- ninefold a.
- Nine times repeated.
- galloping a.
- Going at a gallop; progressing rapidly; as, a galloping horse.
- stride v. t.
- To walk with long steps, especially in a measured or pompous manner. [AS. stridan to stride, to strive; akin to LG. striden, OFries. strida to strive, D. strijden to strive, to contend, G. streiten, OHG. stritan; of uncertain orig]
- landward adv.
- Toward the land.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Dykes is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Five Nations, Volume I, Project Gutenberg ebook #60260; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Rudyard Kipling, The Dykes, in The Five Nations, Volume I (1903), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #60260, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/kipling-five-nations-1/the-dykes.html, id L20229.
Form and metre
The Dykes is 62 lines in 10 stanzas. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic tetrameter.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AABB oarA · moreA · denyB · plyB
- 2 -A-A-B-B and · groinA · fairway · joinA · work · fastB · our · pastB
- 3 -AA-B-B testing · allA · wallA · the · sandB · outworks · standB
- 4 A-AB-B beachA · a · breachA · afraidB · fathers · madeB
- 5 -ABAB-B sunlight · fliesA · andB · diesA · windB · tide · behindB
- 6 AA-B-B blareA · glareA · they · standB · deliver · inlandB
- 7 AA-B-B strideA · sideA · snatch · teethB · the · beneathB
- 8 A-A-BB towA · seabanks · goA · shall · proveB · aboveB
- 9 ABABC-C shameA · theB · sameA · weB · delayedC · have · betrayedC
- 10 AA-BB seasA · easeA · day · withdrawnB · dawnB
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| We have no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar-- | 15 | ······/˘······· |
| All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us now no more; | 15 | ··//˘····/˘···· |
| All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny-- | 17 | ··/····˘/······˘/ |
| There is no proof in the bread we eat or rest in the toil we ply. | 16 | ················ |
| Look you, our foreshore stretches far through sea-gate, dyke, and | 14 | ··/···/˘······ |
| groin-- | 1 | · |
| Made land all, that our fathers made, where the flats and the fairway | 15 | ····//˘······/· |
| join. | 1 | · |
| They forced the sea a sea-league back. They died, and their work | 13 | ············· |
| stood fast. | 2 | ·· |
| We were born to peace in the lee of the dykes, but the time of our | 16 | ···············/ |
| peace is past. | 3 | ··· |
| Far off, the full tide clambers and slips, mouthing and testing | 14 | ·····/˘··/˘·/˘ |
| all, | 1 | · |
| Nipping the flanks of the water-gates, baying along the wall; | 15 | /˘····/˘·/˘˘/·· |
| Turning the shingle, returning the shingle, changing the set of the | 17 | /˘·/˘˘/˘·/˘/˘···· |
| sand ... | 1 | · |
| We are too far from the beach, men say, to know how the outworks | 15 | ··············· |
| stand. | 1 | · |
| So we come down, uneasy, to look, uneasily pacing the beach. | 16 | ····˘/˘··˘/˘/˘·· |
| These are the dykes our fathers made: we have never known a | 13 | ····//˘···/·· |
| breach. | 1 | · |
| Time and again has the gale blown by and we were not afraid; | 15 | ··˘/·········˘/ |
| Now we come only to look at the dykes--at the dykes our fathers | 16 | ···/˘········//˘ |
| made. | 1 | · |
| O’er the marsh where the homesteads cower apart the harried sunlight | 15 | ·····/·/˘/·/˘/· |
| flies, | 1 | · |
| Shifts and considers, wanes and recovers, scatters and sickens and | 16 | ··˘/˘··˘/˘/˘·/˘· |
| dies-- | 1 | · |
| An evil ember bedded in ash--a spark blown west by the wind ... | 15 | ·//˘/˘········· |
| We are surrendered to night and the sea--the gale and the tide | 15 | ··˘/˘·········· |
| behind! | 2 | ·· |
| At the bridge of the lower saltings the cattle gather and blare, | 15 | ·····//˘·/˘/˘·· |
| Roused by the feet of running men, dazed by the lantern glare. | 14 | ·····/˘····/˘· |
| Unbar and let them away for their lives--the levels drown as they | 16 | ˘/···˘/····/˘··· |
| stand, | 1 | · |
| Where the flood-wash forces the sluices aback and the ditches deliver | 18 | ····/˘·/˘˘/··/˘˘/˘ |
| inland. | 2 | /· |
| Ninefold deep to the top of the dykes the galloping breakers stride, | 15 | /·········/˘/˘· |
| And their overcarried spray is a sea--a sea on the landward side. | 16 | ·············/˘· |
| Coming, like stallions they paw with their hooves, going they snatch | 13 | /˘·/˘·····/·· |
| with their teeth, | 3 | ··· |
| Till the bents and the furze and the sand are dragged out, and the | 14 | ·············· |
| old-time wattles beneath! | 6 | ··/˘·· |
| Bid men gather fuel for fire, the tar and the oil and the tow-- | 15 | ··/˘/·/········ |
| Flame we shall need, not smoke, in the dark if the riddled seabanks | 15 | ···········/˘·· |
| go. | 1 | · |
| Bid the ringers watch in the tower (who knows what the dawn shall | 14 | ··/˘···/······ |
| prove?) | 1 | · |
| Each with his rope between his feet and the trembling bells above. | 15 | ··········/˘··· |
| Now we can only wait till the day, wait and apportion our shame. | 16 | ···/˘······˘/˘/· |
| These are the dykes our fathers left, but we would not look to the | 15 | ····//˘········ |
| same. | 1 | · |
| Time and again were we warned of the dykes, time and again we | 15 | ··˘/········˘/· |
| delayed: | 2 | ˘/ |
| Now, it may fall, we have slain our sons as our fathers we have | 15 | ·······/··//˘·· |
| betrayed. | 2 | ˘/ |
| Walking along the wreck of the dykes, watching the work of the seas, | 16 | /˘˘/·····/˘····· |
| These were the dykes our fathers made to our great profit and ease; | 15 | ····//˘··/·/˘·· |
| But the peace is gone and the profit is gone, and the old sure day | 16 | ·······/˘······· |
| withdrawn ... | 2 | ˘/ |
| That our own houses show as strange when we come back in the dawn! | 15 | ·/·/˘·········· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.