| George Herbert Clarke, ed. (1873–1953). A Treasury of War Poetry. 1917. |
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| 114. The Mine-Sweepers |
| | | By Rudyard Kipling |
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| DAWN off the Foreland—the young flood making | |
| Jumbled and short and steep— | |
| Black in the hollows and bright where it’s breaking— | |
| Awkward water to sweep. | |
| “Mines reported in the fairway, | 5 |
| Warn all traffic and detain. | |
| Sent up Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain.” | |
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| Noon off the Foreland—the first ebb making | |
| Lumpy and strong in the bight. | |
| Boom after boom, and the golf-hut shaking | 10 |
| And the jackdaws wild with fright. | |
| “Mines located in the fairway, | |
| Boats now working up the chain, | |
| Sweepers—Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain.” | |
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| Dusk off the Foreland—the last light going | 15 |
| And the traffic crowding through, | |
| And five damned trawlers with their syreens blowing | |
| Heading the whole review! | |
| “Sweep completed in the fairway. | |
| No more mines remain. | 20 |
| Sent back Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain.” | |
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