I met my mates in the morning (and oh, but I am old!) <br />Where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled; <br />I heard them lift the chorus that dropped the breakers' song -- <br />The beaches of Lukannon -- two million voices strong! <br /> <br />The song of pleasant stations beside the salt lagoons, <br />The song of blowing squadrons that shuffled down the dunes, <br />The song of midnight dances that churned the sea to flame -- <br />The beaches of Lukannon -- before the sealers came! <br /> <br />I met my mates in the morning (I'll never meet them more!); <br />They came and went in legions that darkened all the shore. <br />And through the foam-flecked offing as far as voice could reach <br />We hailed the landing-parties and we sang them up the beach. <br /> <br />The beaches of Lukannon -- the winter-wheat so tall -- <br />The dripping, crinkled lichens, and the sea-fog drenching all! <br />The platforms of our playground, all shining smooth and worn! <br />The beaches of Lukannon -- the home where we were born! <br /> <br />I meet my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band. <br />Men shoot us in the water and club us on the land; <br />Men drive us to the Salt House like silly sheep and tame, <br />And still we sing Lukannon -- before the sealers came. <br /> <br />Wheel down, wheel down to southward; oh, Gooverooska go! <br />And tell the Deep-Sea Viceroys! the story of our woe; <br />Ere, empty as the shark's egg the tempest flings ashore, <br />The beaches of Lukannon shall know their sons no more!<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lukannon/
