Proud, with taut bridles, pawing, but compelled.
And still the Dauber strove, though all men mocked,
To draw the splendour of the passing thing,
And deep inside his heart a something locked,
Long pricking in him, now began to sting--
A fear of the disasters storm might bring;
His rank as painter would be ended then--
He would keep watch and watch like other men.
And go aloft with them to man the yard
When the great ship was rolling scuppers under,