Puck of Pook's Hill

Name: Puck of Pook's Hill
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/

Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

Puck of Pook's Hill

Oxford Text Archive

Authors: Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

Date of publication: 1906

Type: Text

Language(s): English

OTA identifier: ota:3292

Collection(s): OTA Core Collection

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Puck’s Song
See you the dimpled track that runs,
All hollow through the wheat?
O that was where they hauled the guns
That smote King Philip’s fleet.
See you our little mill that clacks,
So busy by the brook?
She has ground her corn and paid her tax
Ever since Domesday Book.
See you our stilly woods of oak,
And the dread ditch beside?
O that was where the Saxons broke,
On the day that Harold died.
See you the windy levels spread
About the gates of Rye?
O that was where the Northmen fled,
When Alfred’s ships came by.
See you our pastures wide and lone,
Where the red oxen browse?
O there was a City thronged and known,
Ere London boasted a house.
And see you, after rain, the trace
Of mound and ditch and wall?
O that was a Legion’s camping-place,
When Cæsar sailed from Gaul.
And see you marks that show and fade,
Like shadows on the Downs?
O they are the lines the Flint Men made,
To guard their wondrous towns.
Trackway and Camp and City lost,
Salt Marsh where now is corn;
Old Wars, old Peace . . .