Then the bishop speaks:
"O God, who art the author of peace and lover of
concord,... defend us thy humble servants
in all assaults of our enemies."
"Amen!" say the owners of the khaki backs.

The light has shifted a little. On the blue steel barrel
of the rifle the glint is turquoise now.
That will be from the robe of the shepherd in the window
yonder, He of the quiet eyes....

Hong Kong


On the Canton River Boat

Up and down, up and down, paces the sentry.
He is dressed in a uniform of khaki and his socks are
green. Over his shoulder is slung a rifle, and
from his belt hang a pistol and cartridge pouch.
He is, I think, Malay and Chinese mixed.

Behind him the rocky islands, hazed in blue, the yellow
sun-drenched water, the tropic shore, pass as a
background in a dream.
He only is sweltering reality.
Yet he is here to guard against a nightmare, an
anachronism, something that I cannot grasp.
He is guarding me from pirates.