Dawn off the Foreland -- the young flood making <br />Jumbled and short and steep -- <br />Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking -- <br />Awkward water to sweep. <br />"Mines reported in the fairway, <br />Warn all traffic and detain. <br />Sent up Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain." <br /> <br />Noon off the Foreland -- the first ebb making <br />Lumpy and strong in the bight. <br />Boom after boom, and the golf-hut shaking <br />And the jackdaws wild with fright. <br />"Mines located in the fairway, <br />Boats now working up the chain, <br />Sweepers -- Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain." <br /> <br />Dusk off the Foreland -- the last light going <br />And the traffic crowding through, <br />And five damned trawlers with their syreens blowing <br />Heading the whole review! <br />"Sweep completed in the fairway, <br />No more mines remain. <br />Sent back Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."<br /><br />Rudyard Kipling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mine-sweepers/
