Rudyard Kipling

The Five Nations Rudyard Kipling

Before a midnight breaks in storm, Or herded sea in wrath, Ye know what wavering gusts informThe greater tempest's path; Till the loosed windDrive all from mind, Except Distress, which, so will prophets cry, O'ercame them, houseless, from the unhinting sky. Ere rivers league against the landIn piratry of flood, Ye know what waters slip and standWhere seldom water stood. Yet who will note, Till fields afloat, And washen carcass and the returning well, Trumpet what these poor heralds strove