Rudyard Kipling

March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. Front!, eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses

One moment bid the horses wait, Since tiffin is not laid till three, Below the upward path and strait

"Saint Praxed's ever was the Church for peace" If down here I chance to die, Solemnly I beg you take

He drank strong waters and his speech was coarse; He purchased raiment and forbore to pay'; He stuck a trusting junior with a horse,

These are our regulations, There's just one law for the Scout And the first and the last, and the present and the past,

My father's father saw it not, And I, belike, shall never come To look on that so-holy spot,

Our Lord Who did the Ox command To kneel to Judah's King, He binds His frost upon the land

Take of English earth as much As either hand may rightly clutch. In the taking of it breathe

R. L. Stevenson - The Muse Among the Motors (1900-1930) Now there is nothing wrong with me Except, I think it's called T.B.

Lest you should think this story true I merely mention I Evolved it lately. 'Tis a most

What is the song the children sing, When doorway lilacs bloom in Spring, And the Schools are loosed, and the games are played

I could not dig; I dared not rob: Therefore I lied to please the mob. Now all my lies are proved untrue

"This is the State above the Law. The State exists for the State alone." [This is a gland at the back of the jaw,

And they were stronger hands than mine That digged the Ruby from the earth, More cunning brains that made it worth

And they were stronger hands than mine That digged the Ruby from the earth, More cunning brains that made it worth

Since first the White Horse Banner blew free, By Hengist's horde unfurled, Nothing has changed on land or sea

We are very slightly changed From the semi-apes who ranged India's Prehistoric clay;

This is the reason why Rustum Beg, Rajah of Kolazai, Drinketh the "simpkin" and brandy peg,

Once on a time, the ancient legends tell, Truth, rising from the bottom of her well, Looked on the world, but, hearing how it lied,

When a lover hies abroad Looking for his love, Azrael smiling sheathes his sword,

The Babe was laid in the Manger Between the gentle kine, All safe from cold and danger,

Like Princes crowned they bore them, Like Demi-Gods they wrought, When the New World lay before them

Rome never looks where she treads. Always her heavy hooves fall On our stomachs, our hearts or our heads;

I do not look for holy saints to guide me on my way Or male and female devilkins to lead my feet astray. If these are added I rejoice, if not, I shall not mind

To all to whom this little book may come, Health for yourselves and those you hold most dear! Content abroad, and happiness at home,

What boots it on the Gods to call? Since, answered or unheard, We perish with the Gods and all

The, Gods that are wiser than Learning But kinder than Life have made sure No mortal may boast in the morning

Once red ripple came to land In the golden sunset burning, Lapped against a maiden's hand,

"Let us now praise famous men", Men of little showing, For their work continueth,

Three things make earth unquiet And four she cannot brook The godly Agur counted them

If you wake at midnight, and hear a horse's feet, Don't go drawing back the blind, or looking in the street. Them that ask no questions isn't told a lie.

The first time that Peter denied his Lord He shrank from the cudgel, the scourge and the cord, But followed far off to see what they would do,

Be well assured that on our side The abiding oceans fight, Though headlong wind and heaping tide

Friend, thou beholdest the lightning? Who has the charge of it, To decree which rock-ridge shall receive, shall be chosen for targe of it? Which crown among palms shall go down, by the thunderbolt broken;

Have you no Bananas, simple townsmen all? 'Nay, but we have them certainly. 'We buy them off the barrows, with the vegetable-marrows

Now praise the Gods of Time and Chance That bring a heart's desire, And lay the joyous roads of France

Oh, light was the world that he weighed in his hands! Oh, heavy the tale of his fiefs and his lands! He has gone from the guddee and put on the shroud,

Fair is our lot, O goodly is our heritage! (Humble ye, my people, and be fearful in your mirth!) For the Lord our God Most High

Now, this is the cup the White Men drink When they go to right a wrong, And that is the cup of the old world's hate,

Where's the lamp that Hero lit Once to call Leander home? Equal Time hath shovelled it

Mithras, God of the Morning, our trumpets waken the Wall! 'Rome is above the Nations, but Thou art over all!' Now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away,

"A Priest in Spite of Himself" "How far is St. Helena from a little child at play!" What makes you want to wander there with all the world between.

Where the sober-colored cultivator smiles On his byles; Where the cholera, the cyclone, and the crow

I'm just in love with all these three, The Weald and the Marsh and the Down country. Nor I don't know which I love the most,

There are whose study is of smells, And to attentive schools rehearse How something mixed with something else

Of all the trees that grow so fair, Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the Sun,

THE BRICKLAYER: I tell this tale, which is strictly true, Just by way of convincing you

Jelaludin Muhammed Akbar, Guardian of Mankind, Moved his standards out of Delhi to Jaunpore of lower Hind, Where a mosque was to be builded, and a lovelier ne'er was planned;

There's a pasture in a valley where the hanging woods divide, And a Herd lies down and ruminates in peace; Where the pheasant rules the nooning, and the owl the twilight tide,

The American Spirit speaks: If the Led Striker call it a strike, Or the papers call it a war,

To the Heavens above us O look and behold The Planets that love us

Now this is the tale of the Council the German Kaiser decreed, To ease the strong of their burden, to help the weak in their need, He sent a word to the peoples, who struggle, and pant, and sweat,

So long as 'neath the Kalka hills The tonga-horn shall ring, So long as down the Solon dip

Heh! Walk her round. Heave, ah, heave her short again! Over, snatch her over, there, and hold her on the pawl. Loose all sail, and brace your yards aback and full,

Song of the Returning Hunter (Esquimaux) - "Quiquern", The Second Jungle Book Our gloves are stiff with the frozen blood, Our furs with the drifted snow,

A great and glorious thing it is To learn, for seven years or so, The Lord knows what of that and this,

Old is the song that I sing, Old as my unpaid bills, Old as the chicken that khitmutgars bring

I Frost upon small rain the ebony-lacquered avenue Reflecting lamps as a pool shows goldfish.

As I left the Halls at Lumley, rose the vision of a comely Maid last season worshiped dumbly, watched with fervor from afar; And I wondered idly, blindly, if the maid would greet me kindly.

"The Manner of Men" - St. Paul "Limits and Renewals" (1932) I am made all things to all men,

From every quarter of your land They give God thanks who turned away Death and the needy madman's hand,

"Uncovenanted Mercies" - From "Limits and Renewals" [1930] Lo! The Wild Cow of the Desert, her yeanling estrayed from her, Lost in the wind-plaited sand-dunes, athirst in the maze of them.

I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at, A-layin' on the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat; My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots,

'T was Fultah Fisher's boarding-house, Where sailor-men reside, And there were men of all the ports

"Once in so often," King Solomon said, Watching his quarrymen drill the stone, "We will club our garlic and wine and bread

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre, He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea; An' what he thought 'e might require,

Written for John Lockwood Kipling's They killed a Child to please the Gods In Earth's young penitence,

Before a midnight breaks in storm, Or herded sea in wrath, Ye know what wavering gusts inform

There was a row in Silver Street that's near to Dublin Quay, Between an Irish regiment an' English cavalree; It started at Revelly an' it lasted on till dark:

"Oh, where are you going to, all you Big Steamers, With England's own coal, up and down the salt seas?" "We are going to fetch you your bread and your butter,

"'As anybody seen Bill 'Awkins?" "Now 'ow in the devil would I know?" "'E's taken my girl out walkin',

March! The mud is cakin' good about our trousies. Front! eyes front, an' watch the Colour-casin's drip. Front! The faces of the women in the 'ouses

Roses red and roses white Plucked I for my love's delight. She would none of all my posies,

[Field Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar] There's a little red-faced man, Which is Bobs,

We're foot, slog, slog, slog, sloggin' over Africa, Foot, foot, foot, foot, sloggin' over Africa, (Boots, boots, boots, boots, movin' up and down again!)

"... and will supply details to guard the Blood River Bridge." - District Orders-Lines of Communication, South African War. Sudden the desert changes, The raw glare softens and clings,

I was very well pleased with what I knowed, I reckoned myself no fool, Till I met with a maid on the Brookland Road,

In the days of lace-ruffles, perukes and brocade Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise, An out-spoken, flinty-lipped, brazen-faced jade,

"And there is a Japanese idol at Kamakura" O ye who tread the Narrow Way By Tophet-flare to Judgment Day,

Eyes aloft, over dangerous places, The children follow the butterflies, And, in the sweat of their upturned faces,

"To Be Filed For Reference", Plain Tales From the Hills By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed From the cliff where she lay in the Sun

Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail, A spectre at my door, Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail,

Cain and Abel were brothers born. (Koop-la! Come along, cows!) One raised cattle and one raised corn.

Dellius, that car which, night and day, Lightnings and thunders arm and scourge, Tumultuous down the Appian Way,

I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick, I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick, But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly,

I. If It be pleasant to look on, stalled in the packed serai, Does not the Young Man try Its temper and pace ere he buy?

Me that 'ave been what I've been, Me that 'ave gone where I've gone, Me that 'ave seen what I've seen,

Plain Tales From the Hills Look, you have cast out Love! What Gods are these You bid me please?

When the cabin port-holes are dark and green Because of the seas outside; When the ship'goes wop (with a wiggle between)

Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised, With idiot moons and stars retracting stars? Creep thou between, thy coming's all unnoised.

The doors were wide, the story saith, Out of the night came the patient wraith. He might not speak, and he could not stir

'Less you want your toes trod off you'd better get back at once, For the bullocks are walking two by two, The byles are walking two by two,

So we settled it all when the storm was done As comfy as comfy could be; And I was to wait in the barn, my dears,

There was a strife 'twixt man and maid Oh that was at the birth of time! But what befall 'twixt man and maid,,

Colour fulfils where Music has no power: By each man's light the unjudging glass betrays All men's surrender, each man's holiest hour

These were my companions going forth by night (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight.

We've got the cholerer in camp, it's worse than forty fights; We're dyin' in the wilderness the same as Isrulites. It's before us, an' be'ind us, an' we cannot get away,

Dim dawn behind the tamerisks, the sky is saffron-yellow, As the women in the village grind the corn, And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow

Cities and Thrones and Powers Stand in Time's eye, Almost as long as flowers,

Help for a patriot distressed, a spotless spirit hurt, Help for an honourable clan sore trampled in the dirt! From Queenstown Bay to Donegal, oh, listen to my song,

Gold is for the mistress, silver for the maid, Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade." "Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

Out o' the wilderness, dusty an' dry (Time, an' 'igh time to be trekkin' again!) Oo is it 'eads to the Detail Supply?

If any questions why we died, Tell them, because our fathers lied.

Rain on the face of the sea, Rain on the sodden land, And the window-pane is blurred with rain

The drowsy carrier sways To the drowsy horses' tramp. His axles winnow the sprays

We thought we ranked above the chance of ill. Others might fall, not we, for we were wise, Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will

As our mother the Frigate, bepainted and fine, Made play for her bully the Ship of the Line; So we, her bold daughters by iron and fire,

Tell it to the locked-up trees, Cuckoo, bring your song here! Warrant, Act and Summons, please,

Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide, By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried; Log in the plume-grass, hidden and lone;

It is always a temptation to an armed and agile nation To call upon a neighbour and to say: "We invaded you last night, we are quite prepared to fight,

"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade. "To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said. "What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.

Singer and tailor am I, Doubled the joys that I know, Proud of my lilt to the sky,

Yet at the last, ere our spearmen had found him, Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save, Yet at the last, with his masters around him,

To the City of Bombay The Cities are full of pride, Challenging each to each, This from her mountain-side, That from her burdened beach. They count their ships full tale, Their corn and oil and wine, Derrick and loom and bale, And ramparts' gun-flecked line; City by City they hail: "Hast aught to match with mine?" And the men that breed from them They traffic up and down, But cling to their cities' hem As a child to the mother's gown; When they talk with the stranger bands, Dazed and newly alone; When they walk in the stranger lands, By roaring streets unknown; Blessing her where she stands For strength above their own. (On high to hold her fame That stands all fame beyond, By oath to back the same, Most faithful-foolish-fond; Making her mere-breathed name Their bond upon their bond.) So thank I God my birth Fell not in isles aside, Waste headlands of the earth, Or warring tribes untried, But that she lent me worth And gave me right to pride. Surely in toil or fray Under an alien sky, Comfort it is to say: "Of no mean city am I!" (Neither by service nor fee Come I to mine estate, Mother of Cities to me, But I was born in her gate, Between the palms and the sea, Where the world-end steamers wait.) Now for this debt I owe, And for her far-borne cheer Must I make haste and go With tribute to her pier. And she shall touch and remit After the use of kings (Orderly, ancient, fit) My deep-sea plunderings, And purchase in all lands. And this we do for a sign Her power is over mine, And mine I hold at her hands!

Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled, Farther than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled, Live such as fought and- sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.

The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar, Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where the blind white sea-snakes are. There is no sound, no echo of sound, in the deserts of the deep,

We have another viceroy now, those days are dead and done Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gunne. Delilah Aberyswith was a lady, not too young,

She did not know that she was dead, But, when the pang was o'er, Sat down to wait her Master's tread

Who recalls the twilight and the ranged tents in order (Violet peaks uplifted through the crystal evening air?) And the clink of iron teacups and the piteous, noble laughter,

It was an artless Bandar, and he danced upon a pine, And much I wondered how he lived, and where the beast might dine, And many many other things, till, o'er my morning smoke,

Man dies too soon, beside his works half-planned. His days are counted and reprieve is vain: Who shall entreat with Death to stay his hand;

Eddi, priest of St. Wilfrid In his chapel at Manhood End, Ordered a midnight service

Naked and grey the Cotswolds stand Beneath the autumn sun, And the stubble-fields on either hand

"Behold there is a woman that hath a familiar spirit at En-dor." I Samuel, xxviii. 7. The road to En-dor is easy to tread For Mother or yearning Wife.

Truly ye come of The Blood; slower to bless than to ban; Little used to lie down at the bidding of any man. Flesh of the flesh that I bred, bone of the bone that I bare;

'EQUALITY OF SACRIFICE' A. 'I was a Have.' B. 'I was a 'have-not.'' (Together.) 'What hast thou given which I gave not?'

In extended observation of the ways and works of man, From the Four-mile Radius roughly to the Plains of Hindustan: I have drunk with mixed assemblies, seen the racial ruction rise,

Read here: This is the story of Evarra, man, Maker of Gods in lands beyond the sea.

We meet in an evil land That is near to the gates of hell. I wait for thy command

To-night, God knows what thing shall tide, The Earth is racked and fain, Expectant, sleepless, open-eyed;

Farewell and adieu to you, Harwich Ladies, Farewell and adieu to you, ladies ashore!

This is the end whereto men toiled Before thy coachman guessed his fate, How thou shouldst leave thy, 'scutcheoned gate

There was no one like 'im, 'Orse or Foot, Nor any o' the Guns I knew; An' because it was so, why, o' course 'e went an' died,

For all we have and are, For all our children's fate, Stand up and take the war.

he Injian Ocean sets an' smiles So sof', so bright, so bloomin' blue; There aren't a wave for miles an' miles

Kabul town's by Kabul river, Blow the trumpet, draw the sword, There I lef' my mate for ever,

I have done mostly what most men do, And pushed it out of my mind; But I can't forget, if I wanted to,

When Samson set my brush afire To spoil the Timnites barley, I made my point for Leicestershire

Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul, Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,

Old Horn to All Atlantic said: (A-hay O! To me O!) "Now where did Frankie learn his trade?

Gow. Had it been your Prince instead of a groom caught in this noose there's not an astrologer of the city, Prince. Sacked! Sacked! We were a city yesterday. Gow. So be it, but I was not governor. Not an astrologer, but would ha' sworn he'd foreseen it at the last versary of Venus, when Vulcan caught her with Mars in the house of stinking Capricorn. But since 'tis Jack of the Straw that hangs, the forgetful stars had it not on their tablets.

Not with an outcry to Allah nor any complaining He answered his name at the muster and stood to the chaining. When the twin anklets were nipped on the leg-bars that held them,

(Soudan Expeditionary Force) We've fought with many men acrost the seas, An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:

All day long to the judgment-seat The crazed Provincials drew All day long at their ruler's feet

Whence comest thou, Gehazi, So reverend to behold, In scarlet and in ermines

With those that bred, with those that loosed the strife, He had no part whose hands were clear of gain; But subtle, strong, and stubborn, gave his life

To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned, To my brethren in their sorrow overseas, Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed,

That which is marred at birth Time shall not mend, Nor water out of bitter well make clean; All evil thing returneth at the end,

The Garden called Gethsemane In Picardy it was, And there the people came to see

Imprimus he was "broke." Thereafter left His Regiment and, later, took to drink; Then, having lost the balance of his friends,

Unless you come of the gipsy stock That steals by night and day, Lock your heart with a double lock

Aa'or - Cahors? Aggy Chell - get ahead abby-nay - Not now

Because I sought it far from men, In deserts and alone, I found it burning overhead,

ACT II. SCENE 2. The pavilion in the Gardens. Enter FERDINAND and the KING FERDINAND. Your tiercel's too long at hack, Sir. He's no eyass

The Head of the Bargi Pass, in snow. Gow and Ferdinand with their Captains. GOW (to Ferdinand). The Queen's host would be delivered me to-day, but that these Mountain Men have sent battalia to hold the Pass. They're shod, helmed and torqued with soft gold. For the rest, naked. By no argument can I persuade 'em their gilt carcasses against my bombards avail not. What's to do, Fox? FERDINAND. Fatherless folk go furthest. These loud pagans

After the Battle. The PRINCESS by the Standard on the Ravelin. Enter Gow, with the Crown of the Kingdom. GOW. Here's earnest of the Queen's submission.

Theodore Roosevelt "The interpreter then called for a man-servant of his, one Great-Heart." - Bunyan's' Pilgrim's Progess. Concerning brave Captains

You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;

Who knows the heart of the Christian? How does he reason? What are his measures and balances? Which is his season For laughter, forbearance or bloodshed, and what devils move him

When by the labour of my 'ands I've 'elped to pack a transport tight With prisoners for foreign lands,

What is a woman that you forsake her, And the hearth-fire and the home-acre, To go with the old grey Widow-maker?

'Have you news of my boy Jack?' Not this tide. 'When d'you think that he'll come back?'

There was darkness under Heaven For an hour's space, Darkness that we knew was given

"What's that that hirples at my side?" The foe that you must fight, my lord. "That rides as fast as I can ride?"

Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old. He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled. But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness, and settled him on Thy knee...

Cry "Murder" in the market-place, and each Will turn upon his neighbour anxious eyes Asking: "Art thou the man?" We hunted Cain

The stream is shrunk, the pool is dry, And we be comrades, thou and I; With fevered jowl and dusty flank

So we settled it all when the storm was done As comfy as comfy could be; And I was to wait in the barn, my dears,

I am the Most Wise Baviaan, saying in Most wise tones, "Let us melt into the landscape,just us two by our lones." Peoplehavecome,inacarriage,calling. But Mummy is there....

This Uninhabited Island Is near Cape Gardafui; But it's hot, too hot, of Suez

When the cabin port-holes are dark and green Because of the seas outside When the ship goes wop (with a wiggle between)

As the dawn was breaking the Sambhur belled, Once, twice and again! And a doe leaped up, and a doe leaped up

The earth is full of anger, The seas are dark with wrath, The Nations in their harness

The careful text-books measure (Let all who build beware!) The load, the shock, the pressure

Oh, long had we paltered With bridle and girth Ere those horses were haltered

Dread Mother of Forgetfulness Who, when Thy reign begins, Wipest away the Soul's distress,

I keep six honest serving-men (They taught me all I knew); Their names are What and Why and When

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

They burnt a corpse upon the sand, The light shone out afar; It guided home the plunging dhows

My garden blazes brightly with the rose-bush and the peach, And the koil sings above it, in the siris by the well, From the creeper-covered trellis comes the squirrel's chattering speech,

A stone's throw out on either hand From that well-ordered road we tread, And all the world is wild and strange;

When, foot to wheel and back to wind, The helmsman dare not look behind, But hears beyond his compass-light,

In the Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage For food and fame and woolly horses' pelt. I was singer to my clan in that dim, red Dawn of Man,

The child of Mary Queen of Scots, A shifty mother's shiftless son, Bred up among intrigues and plots,

Jane went to Paradise: That was only fair. Good Sir Walter followed her,

'Blessed be the English and all their ways and works. Cursed be the Infidels, Hereticks, and Turks!' 'Amen,' quo' Jobson, 'but where I used to lie

Jubal sang of the Wrath of God And the curse of thistle and thorn, But Tubal got him a pointed rod,

When the cabin port-holes are dark and green Because of the seas outside; When the ship goes wop (with a wiggle between)

Across a world where all men grieve And grieving strive the more, The great days range like tides and leave

His spots are the joy of the Leopard: his horns are the Buffalo's pride. Be clean, for the strength of the hunter is known by the gloss of his hide. If ye find that the bullock can toss you, or the heavy-browed Sambhur can gore;

Eyes aloft over dangerous places, The children follow where Psyche flies, And, in the sweat of their upturned faces,

Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised, With idiot moons and stars retracting stars? Creep thou between, thy coming's all unnoised.

Harry, our King in England, from London town is gone, And comen to Hamull on the Hoke in the Countie of Suthampton. For there lay the Mary of the Tower, his ship of war so strong,

Oh, Hubshee, carry your shoes in your hand and bow your head on your breast! This is the message of Kitchener who did not break you in jest. It was permitted to him to fulfil the long-appointed years;

There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand gray to the sun, Singing:, "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover,

The smoke upon your Altar dies, The flowers decay, The Goddess of your sacrifice

My new-cut ashlar takes the light Where crimson-blank the windows flare; By my own work, before the night,

A much-discerning Public hold The Singer generally sings And prints and sells his past for gold.

I turned Heaven knows we women turn too much To broken reeds, mistaken so for pine That shame forbids confession a handle I turned

Late came the God, having sent his forerunners who were not regarded, Late, but in wrath; Saying: "The wrong shall be paid, the contempt be rewarded

Veil them, cover them, wall them round, Blossom, and creeper, and weed, Let us forget the sight and the sound,

Smells are surer than sounds or sights To make your heart-strings crack, They start those awful voices o' nights

Look, you have cast out Love!    What Gods are these You bid me please? The Three in One, the One in Three? Not so!

Why gird at Lollius if he care To purchase in the city's sight, With nard and roses for his hair,

When you come to London Town, (Grieving-grieving!) Bring your flowers and lay them down

If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back, If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line, If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack,

He passed in the very battle-smoke Of the war that he had descried. Three hundred mile of cannon spoke

I met my mates in the morning (and oh, but I am old!) Where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled; I heard them lift the chorus that dropped the breakers' song,

Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream, An', taught by time, I tak' it so, exceptin' always Steam. From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see Thy Hand, O God,

"As easy as A B C" A Diversity of Creatures" Whether the State can loose and bind In Heaven as well as on Earth:

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea, There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me; For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:

'Less you want your toes trod of you'd better get back at once, For the bullocks are walking two by two, The byles are walking two by two,                                       

If you stop to find out what your wages will be And how they will clothe and feed you, Willie, my son, don't you go on the Sea.

You call yourself a man, For all you used to swear, An' Leave me, as you can,

Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream, An', taught by time, I tak' it so, exceptin' always Steam. From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see Thy Hand, O God,

"The eradication of memories of the Great War. - Socialist Government Organ. The Socialist Government speaks: Though all the Dead were all forgot

There runs a road by Merrow Down, A grassy track to-day it is An hour out Guildford town,

They shall not return to us, the resolute, the young, The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave: But the men who left them thriftily to die in their own dung,

Dawn off the Foreland, the young flood making Jumbled and short and steep, Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking,

One moment past our bodies cast No shadow on the plain; Now clear and black they stride our track,

If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! I know whose love would follow me still,

Now Chil the Kite brings home the night That Mang the Bat sets free, The herds are shut in byre and hut,

The Song of Mowgli, I, Mowgli, am singing. Let the jungle listen to the things I have done. Shere Khan said he would kill, would kill! At the gates in the twilight he would kill Mowgli, the Frog! He ate and he drank. Drink deep, Shere Khan, for when wilt thou drink again? Sleep and dream of the kill.

I will let loose against you the fleet-footed vines, I will call in the Jungle to stamp out your lines! The roofs shall fade before it,

The fear was on the cattle, for the gale was on the sea, An' the pens broke up on the lower deck an' let the creatures free An' the lights went out on the lower deck, an' no one near but me.

"Why is my District death-rate low?" Said Binks of Hezabad. "Well, drains, and sewage-outfalls are

Have you news of my boy Jack?" Not this tide. "When d'you think that he'll come back?"

There are four good legs to my Father's Chair, Priests and People and Lords and Crown. I sits on all of 'em fair and square,

The Law whereby my lady moves Was never Law to me, But 'tis enough that she approves

My New-Cut ashlar takes the light Where crimson-blank the windows flare. By my own work before the night,

I go to concert, party, ball, What profit is in these? I sit alone against the wall

'Go, wash thyself in Jordan, go, wash thee and be clean! ' Nay, not for any Prophet will I plunge a toe therein! For the banks of curious Jordan are parcelled into sites,

Primitive I ate my fill of a whale that died And stranded after a month at sea. . . .

The man that is open of heart to his neighbour, And stops to consider his likes and dislikes, His blood shall be wholesome whatever his labour,

Non nobis Domine!, Not unto us, O Lord! The Praise or Glory be

"My son," said the Norman Baron, "I am dying, and you will be heir To all the broad acres in England that William gave me for share When he conquered the Saxon at Hastings, and a nice little handful it is.

So long as memory, valour, and faith endure, Let these stones witness, through the years to come, How once there was a people fenced secure

All the world over, nursing their scars, Sit the old fighting-men broke in the wars, Sit the old fighting-men, surly and grim

Old Mother Laidinwool had nigh twelve months been dead. She heard the hops was doing well, an' so popped up her head For said she: "The lads I've picked with when I was young and fair,

So here's your Empire. No more wine, then? Good. We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away.

Wot makes the soldier's 'eart to penk, wot makes 'im to perspire? It isn't standin' up to charge nor lyin' down to fire; But it's everlastin' waitin' on a everlastin' road

"Below the Mill Dam" - Traffics and Discoveries Thrones, Powers, Dominions, Peoples, Kings, Are changing 'neath our hand.

"A Doctor of Medicine", Rewards and Fairies Excellent herbs had our fathers of old, Excellent herbs to ease their pain,

There was a Priest at Phil', Tongue-tied, feeble, and old; And the daily prayer to the Virgin

A nation spoke to a Nation, A Queen sent word to a Throne: 'Daughter am I in my mother's house,

Baloo For the sake of him who showed One wise Frog the Jungle-Road,

The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where eath tooth-point goes. The butterfly upon the road

It's forty in the shade to-day, the spouting eaves declare; The boulders nose above the drift, the southern slopes are bare; Hub-deep in slush Apollo's car swings north along the Zod,

- Elephants of the Gun-Teams We lent to Alexander the strength of Hercules, The wisdom of our foreheads, the cunning of our knees.

". . . Consider that the meritorious services of the Sergeant Instructors attached to the Egyptian Army haue been inadequately acknowledged. . . . To the excellence of their work is mainly due the great improvement that has taken place in the soldiers of H.H. the Khedive." Extact from Letter.

If you're off to Philadelphia in the morning, You mustn't take my stories for a guide. There's little left, indeed, of the city you will read of,

I do not love my Empire's foes, Nor call 'em angels; still, What is the sense of 'atin' those

Go, stalk the red deer o'er the heather, Ride, follow the fox if you can! But, for pleasure and profit together,

They are fools who kiss and tell", Wisely has the poet sung. Man may hold all sorts of posts

'Poison of asps is under our lips'? Why do you seek us, then? Breaking our knotted fellowships

Your jar of Virginny Will cost you a guinea, Which you reckon too much by five shillings or ten;

When the robust and Brass-bound Man commissioned first for sea His fragile raft, Poseidon laughed, and "Mariner," said he, "Behold, a Law immutable I lay on thee and thine,

Ay, lay him 'neath the Simla pine, A fortnight fully to be missed, Behold, we lose our fourth at whist,

To all to whom this little book may come, Health for yourselves and those you hold most dear! Content abroad, and happiness at home,

I have eaten your bread and salt. I have drunk your water and wine. In deaths ye died I have watched beside,

I have eaten your bread and salt, I have drunk your water and wine, The deaths ye died I have watched be-side,

My girl she give me the go onest, When I was a London lad; An' I went on the drink for a fortnight,

Prophets have honour all over the Earth, Except in the village where they were born, Where such as knew them boys from birth

Walpole talks of "a man and his price." List to a ditty queer, The sale of a Deputy-Acting-Vice-Resident-Engineer,

See you the ferny ride that steals Into the oak-woods far? O that was whence they hewed the keels

The People of the Eastern Ice, they are melting like the snow, They beg for coffee and sugar; they go where the white men go. The People of the Western Ice, they learn to steal and fight;

Rahere, King Henry's jester, feared by all the Norman Lords For his eye that pierced their bosoms, for his tongue that shamed their swords; Feed and flattered by the Churchmen, well they knew how deep he stood

If any God should say, "I will restore The world her yesterday

God of our fathers, known of old, Lord of our far-flung battle line, Beneath whose awful hand we hold

For our white and our excellent nights, for the nights of swift running, Fair ranging, far seeing, good hunting, sure cunning! For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed!

As tho' again, yea, even once again, We should rewelcome to our stewardship The rider with the loose-flung bridle-rein

Then we brought the lances down, then the trumpets blew, When we went to Kandahar, ridin' two an' two. Ridin', ridin', ridin' two an' two!

At the hole where he went in Red-Eye called to Wrinkle-Skin. Hear what little Red-Eye saith:

When I left Rome for Lalage's sake, By the Legions' Road to Rimini, She vowed her heart was mine to take

Duly with knees that feign to quake, Bent head and shaded brow,, Yet once again, for my father's sake,

Here we go in a flung festoon, Half-way up to the jealous moon! Don't you envy our pranceful bands?

Oh, little did the Wolf-Child care, When first he planned his home, What City should arise and bear

We're marchin' on relief over Injia's sunny plains, A little front o' Christmas-time an' just be'ind the Rains; Ho! get away you bullock-man, you've 'eard the bugle blowed,

God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, let nothing you dismay, But leave your sports a little while the dead are borne this way! Armies dead and Cities dead, past all count or care.

Like as the Oak whose roots descend Through earth and stillness seeking food Most apt to furnish in the end

When the Waters were dried an' the Earth did appear, ("It's all one," says the Sapper), The Lord He created the Engineer,

Smokin' my pipe on the mountings, sniffin' the mornin' cool, I walks in my old brown gaiters along o' my old brown mule, With seventy gunners be'ind me, an' never a beggar forgets

Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us And black are the waters that sparkled so green. The moon, O'er the combers, looks downward to find us

Swifter than aught 'neath the sun the car of Simonides moved him. Two things he could not out-run Death and a Woman who loved him.

Speakin' in general, I'ave tried 'em all The 'appy roads that take you o'er the world. Speakin' in general, I'ave found them good

Seven Watchmen sitting in a tower, Watching what had come upon mankind, Showed the Man the Glory and the Power,

My name is O'Kelly, I've heard the Revelly From Birr to Bareilly, from Leeds to Lahore, Hong-Kong and Peshawur,

Shiv, who poured the harvest and made the winds to blow, Sitting at the doorways of a day of long ago, Gave to each his portion, food and toil and fate,

I followed my Duke ere I was a lover, To take from England fief and fee; But now this game is the other way over,

This 'appened in a battle to a batt'ry of the corps Which is first among the women an' amazin' first in war; An' what the bloomin' battle was I don't remember now,

As I was spittin' into the Ditch aboard o' the Crocodile, I seed a man on a man-o'-war got up in the Reg'lars' style. 'E was scrapin' the paint from off of 'er plates, an' I sez to 'im, "'Oo are you?"

"Soldier, soldier come from the wars, Why don't you march with my true love?" "We're fresh from off the ship an' 'e's maybe give the slip,

The God of Fair Beginnings Hath prospered here my hand, The cargoes of my lading,

Once again the Steamer at Calais, the tackles Easing the car-trays on to the quay. Release her! Sign-refill, and let me away with my horses

How do I know what Order brings Me into being? I only know, if you do certain things,

We now, held in captivity, Spring to our labours nor greive! See now, how it is a blesseder,

Where first by Eden Tree The Four Great Rivers ran, To each was appointed a Man

We pulled for you when the wind was against us and the sails were low. Will you never let us go? We ate bread and onions when you took towns, or ran aboard quickly when you were beaten back by the foe.

Once we feared The Beast when he followed us we ran, Ran very fast though we knew It was not right that The Beast should master Man;

Once we feared The Beast, when he followed us we ran, Ran very fast though we knew It was not right that The Beast should master Man;

'And thou shalt make a candlestick of pure gold: of beaten work shall the candlestick be made: his shaft, and his branches, his bowls, his knops, and his flowers, shall be of the same . . . . 'And there shall be a knop under two branches of the same, and a knop under two branches of the same, and a knop under two branches of the same, according to the six ranches that proceed out of the candlestick . . . . Their knops and their branches shall be of the same.' - Exodus. 'Know this, my brethren, Heaven! clear

Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady! Watch for a smooth! Give way! If she feels the lop already

When the darkened Fifties dip to the North, And frost and the fog divide the air, And the day is dead at his breaking-forth,

Once again the Steamer at Calais, the tackles Easing the car-trays on to the quay. Release her! Sign-refill, and let me away with my horses.

Lived a woman wonderful, (May the Lord amend her!) Neither simple, kind, nor true,

The general 'eard the firin' on the flank, An' 'e sent a mounted man to bring 'im back The silly, pushin' person's name an' rank

This ditty is a string of lies. But-how the deuce did Gubbins rise? Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.

Such as in Ships and brittle Barks Into the Seas descend Shall learn how wholly on those Arks

God gave all men all earth to love, But, since our hearts are small Ordained for each one spot should prove

I closed and drew for my love's sake That now is false to me, And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss

It got beyond all orders an' it got beyond all 'ope; It got to shammin' wounded an' retirin' from the 'alt. 'Ole companies was lookin' for the nearest road to slope;

I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim, Dick, it's your daddy, dying; you've got to listen to him! Good for a fortnight, am I? The doctor told you? He lied.

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about,

The 'eathen in 'is blindness bows down to wood an' stone; 'E don't obey no orders unless they is 'is own; 'E keeps 'is side-arms awful: 'e leaves 'em all about,

When you've shouted "Rule Britannia," when you've sung "God save the Queen," When you've finished killing Kruger with your mouth, Will you kindly drop a shilling in my little tambourine

Whether to wend through straight streets strictly, Trimly by towns perfectly paved; Or after office, as fitteth thy fancy,

Before Twas not while England's sword unsheathed Put half a world to flight,

A Rose, in tatters on the garden path, Cried out to God and murmured 'gainst His Wrath, Because a sudden wind at twilight's hush

Norman Conquest, 1066 England's on the anvil, hear the hammers ring, Clanging from the Severn to the Tyne!

It I have given you delight By aught that I have done, Let me lie quiet in that night

Seven men from all the world back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give the girls another drink 'fore we sign away,

This is the ballad of Ahmed Shah Dealer in tats in the Sudder Bazar, By the gate that leads to the Gold Minar

This is the ballad of Boh Da Thone, Erst a Pretender to Theebaw's throne, Who harried the district of Alalone:

Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet, Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat; But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,

That night, when through the mooring-chains The wide-eyed corpse rolled free, To blunder down by Garden Reach

One moment bid the horses wait, Since tiffin is not laid till three, Below the upward path and straight

"The Tree of Justice", Rewards and Fairies About the time that taverns shut And men can buy no beer,

Seven men from all the world back to Docks again, Rolling down the Ratcliffe Road drunk and raising Cain: Give the girls another drink 'fore we sign away,

It was our war-ship Clampherdown Would sweep the Channel clean, Wherefore she kept her hatches close

"Now this is the price of a stirrup-cup," The kneeling doctor said. And syne he bade them take him up,

When spring-time flushes the desert grass, Our kafilas wind through the Khyber Pass. Lean are the camels but fat the frails,

Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, of him is the story told. His mercy fills the Khyber hills, his grace is manifold; He has taken toll of the North and the South, his glory reacheth far,

Red Earl, and will ye take for guide The silly camel-birds, That ye bury your head in an Irish thorn,

'Dymchurch Flit', Puck of Pook's Hill. Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees! "Hide from your neigbours as much as you please,

"The Mother Hive", Actions and Reactions A Farmer of the Augustan Age Perused in Virgil's golden page

Lo! What is this that I make, sudden, supreme, unrehearsed, This that my clutch in the crowd pressed at a venture has raised? Forward and onward I sprang when I thought (as I ought) I reversed,

I've never sailed the Amazon, I've never reached Brazil; But the Don and Magdalena,

It was not part of their blood, It came to them very late With long arrears to make good,

They christened my brother of old, And a saintly name he bears, They gave him his place to hold

"Gay go up and gay go down To ring the Bells of London Town." When London Town's asleep in bed

Ah! What avails the classic bent And what the cultured word, Against the undoctored incident

Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout, For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out. We quarrelled about Havanas, we fought o'er a good cheroot,

The miracle of our land's speech so known And long received, none marvel when 'tis shown! We have such wealth as Rome at her most pride

We know the Rocket's upward whizz; We know the Boom before the Bust. We know the whistling Wail which is

Hastily Adam our driver swallowed a curse in the darkness, Petrol nigh at end and something wrong with a sprocket Made him speer for the nearest town, when lo! at the crossways

Petrolio, vaunting his Mercedes' power, Vows she can cover eighty miles an hour. I tried the car of old and know she can.

For things we never mention, For Art misunderstood, For excellent intention

In the daytime, when she moved about me, In the night, when she was sleeping at my side, I was wearied, I was wearied of her presence.

One grief on me is laid Each day of every year, Wherein no soul can aid,

(C. F. Rhodes, buried in the Matoppos, April 10, 1902) When that great Kings return to clay, Or Emperors in their pride,

The Camel's hump is an ugly lump Which well you may see at the Zoo; But uglier yet is the hump we get

Not with an outcry to Allah nor any complaining He answered his name at the muster and stood to the chaining. When the twin anklets were nipped on the leg-bars that held them,

Pussy can sit by the fire and sing, Pussy can climb a tree, Or play with a silly old cork and string

Up came the young Centaur-colts from the plains they were fathered in, Curious, awkward, afraid. Burrs on their hocks and their tails, they were branded and gathered in

Or ever the battered liners sank With their passengers to the dark, I was head of a Walworth Bank,

These were our children who died for our lands: they were dear in our sight. We have only the memory left of their hometreasured sayings and laughter. The price of our loss shall be paid to our hands, not another's hereafter.

Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee Our love and toil in the years to be; When we are grown and take our place

To the Judge of Right and Wrong With Whom fulfillment lies Our purpose and our power belong,

"Here was a people whom after their works thou shalt see wept over for their lost dominion: and in this palace is the last information

("The Brushwood Boy", The Day's Work) Over the edge of the purple down, Where the single lamplight gleams,

The merry clerks of Oxenford they stretch themselves at ease Unhelmeted on unbleached sward beneath unshrivelled trees. For the leaves, the leaves, are on the bough, the bark is on the bole,

Our brows are bound with spindrift and the weed is on our knees; Our loins are battered 'neath us by the swinging, smoking seas. From reef and rock and skerry, over headland, ness, and voe,

Against the Bermudas we foundered, whereby This Master, that Swabber, yon Bo'sun, and I (Our pinnace and crew being drowned in the main)

Until thy feet have trod the Road Advise not wayside folk, Nor till thy back has borne the Load

Blessed was our first age and morning-time. Then were no waies tarren, ne no cars numberen, but each followed his owne playinge-busyness to go about singly or by large interspaces, for to leden his viage after his luste and layen under clene hedge. Jangling there was not, nor the overtaking wheele, and all those now cruel clarions were full-hushed and full-still. Then nobile horses, lest they should make the chariots moveable to run by cause of this new feare, we did not press, and were apayed by sweete thankes of him that drave. There was not cursings ne adventure of death blinded bankes betweene, but good-fellowship of yoke-mates at ignorance equal, and a one pillar of dust covered all exodus.... But, see now how the blacke road hath strippen herself of hearte and beauty where the dumbe lampe of Tartarus winketh red, etc.

When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold, Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould; And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,

Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel, But, once in a way, there will come a day When the colt must be taught to feel

We thought we ranked above the chance of ill. Others might fall, not we, for we were wise, Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will

China-going P. & O.'s Pass Pau Amma's playground close, And his Pusat Tasek lies

Once, after long-drawn revel at The Mermaid, He to the overbearing Boanerges Jonson, uttered (if half of it were liquor,

Long years ago, ere R--lls or R--ce Trebled the mileage man could cover; When Sh--nks's Mare was H--bs--n's Choice,

At two o'clock in the morning, if you open your window and listen, You will hear the feet of the Wind that is going to call the sun. And the trees in the shadow rustle and the trees in the moonlight glisten,

We now, held in captivity, Spring to our bondage nor grieve, See now, how it is blesseder,

Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear? And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run? Let him approach. It is proven here

On the reassembling of Parliament after the Coronation, the Government have no intention of allowing their followers to vote according to their convictions on the Declaration of London, but insist on a strictly party vote. - Daily Papers We were all one heart and one race When the Abbey trumpets blew.

Now it is not good for the Christian's health to hustle the Aryan brown, For the Christian riles, and the Aryan smiles, and he weareth the Christian down; And the end of the fight is a tombstone white with the name of the late deceased,

The wrecks dissolve above us; their dust drops down from afar, Down to the dark, to the utter dark, where the blind white sea-snakes are. There is no sound, no echo of sound, in the deserts of the deep,

I was the staunchest of our fleet Till the sea rose beneath my feet Unheralded, in hatred past all measure.

The strength of twice three thousand horse That seeks the single goal; The line that holds the rending course,

He that hath a Gospel To loose upon Mankind, Though he serve it utterly,

The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower, Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings, And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur,

If wars were won by feasting, 0r victory by song, Or safety found in sleeping sound,

Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part, No more for me the record and the run. That cursed left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart

We have no heart for the fishing, we have no hand for the oar, All that our fathers taught us of old pleases us no more. All that our own hearts bid us believe we doubt where we do not deny,

The wind took off with the sunset, The fog came up with the tide, When the Witch of the North took an Egg-shell

Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro, And what should they know of England who only England know?, The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,

After the fight at Otterburn, Before the ravens came, The Witch-wife rode across the fern

Now the new year reviving old desires, The restless soul to open sea aspires, Where the Blue Peter flickers from the fore,

Youth that trafficked long with Death, And to second life returns, Squanders little time or breath

Love and Death once ceased their strife At the Tavern of Man's Life. Called for wine, and threw, alas!

There's no sense in going further, it's the edge of cultivation," So they said, and I believed it, broke my land and sowed my crop, Built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station

When all the world would keep a matter hid, Since Truth is seldom Friend to any crowd, Men write in fable, as old Aesop did,

I have been given my charge to keep, Well have I kept the same! Playing with strife for the most of my life,

This fell when dinner-time was done 'Twixt the first an' the second rub That oor mon Jock cam' hame again

Now the Four-way Lodge is opened, now the Hunting Winds are loose, Now the Smokes of Spring go up to clear the brain; Now the Young Men's hearts are troubled for the whisper of the Trues,

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside. But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.

Files The Files, Office Files !

Men make them fires on the hearth Each under his roof-tree, And the Four Winds that rule the earth

Mine was the woman to me, darkling I found her: Haling her dumb from the camp, held her and bound her. Hot rose her tribe on our track ere I had proved her;

When the grey geese heard the Fool's tread Too near to where they lay, They lifted neither voice nor head,

The rain it rains without a stay In the hills above us, in the hills; And presently the floods break way

Buy my English posies! Kent and Surrey may, Violets of the Undercliff

As Adam lay a-dreaming beneath the Apple Tree The Angel of the Earth came down, and offered Earth in fee; But Adam did not need it,

Ere stopping or turning, to put foorth a hande Is a charm that thy daies may be long in the land. Though seventy-times-seven thee Fortune befriend,

The boats of Newhaven and Folkestone and Dover To Dieppe and Boulogne and to Calais cross over; And in each of those runs there is not a square yard

I had some friends, but I dreamed that they were dead, Who used to dance with lanterns round a little boy in bed; Green and white lanterns that waved to and fro:

Oh, gallant was our galley from her carven steering-wheel To her figurehead of silver and her beak of hammered steel. The leg-bar chafed the ankle and we gasped for cooler air,

The dead child lay in the shroud, And the widow watched beside; And her mother slept, and the Channel swept

The white moth to the closing bine, The bee to the opened clover, And the gipsy blood to the gipsy blood

Our England is a garden that is full of stately views, Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues, With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race, I Make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place. Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,

There's a widow in sleepy Chester Who weeps for her only son; There's a grave on the Pabeng River,

We knew thee of old, Oh divinely restored, By the light of thine eyes

Our Fathers in a wondrous age, Ere yet the Earth was small, Ensured to us a heritage,

"For here lay the excellent wisdom of him that built Mansoul, that the walls could never be broken down nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate unless the townsmen gave consent thereto." - BUNYAN'S Holy War. A tinker out of Bedford, A vagrant oft in quod,

Sooner or late, in earnest or in jest, (But the stakes are no jest) Ithuriel's Hour Will spring on us, for the first time, the test

'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad, In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard; By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,

After the burial-parties leave And the baffled kites have fled; The wise hyaenas come out at eve

Dread Mother of Forgetfulness Who, when Thy reign begins, Wipest away the Soul's distress,

He wandered down the moutain grade Beyond the speed assigned, A youth whom Justice often stayed

At times when under cover I 'ave said, To keep my spirits up an' raise a laugh, 'Earin 'im pass so busy over-'ead,

Time and Space decreed his lot, But little Man was quick to note: When Time and Space said Man might not,

We're not so old in the Army List, But we're not so young at our trade, For we had the honour at Fontenoy

No doubt but ye are the People-your throne is above the King's. Whoso speaks in your presence must say acceptable things: Bowing the head in worship, bending the knee in fear,

Through the Plagues of Egyp' we was chasin' Arabi, Gettin' down an' shovin' in the sun; An' you might 'ave called us dirty, an' you might ha' called us dry,

There are three degrees of bliss At the foot of Allah's Throne, And the highest place is his

When the drums begin to beat Down the street, When the poles are fetched and guyed,

Now Chil the Kite brings home the night That Mang the Bat sets free The herds are shut in byre and hut,

Once a pair of savages found a stranded tree. (One-piecee stick -pidgin two piecee man. Straddle-um-paddle-um-push -um off to sea.

With them there rode a lustie Engineere Wel skilled to handel everich waie her geere, Hee was soe wise ne man colde showe him naught

"Farewell, Romance!" the Cave-men said; "With bone well carved He went away, Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead,

After His Realms and States were moved To bare their hearts to the King they loved, Tendering themselves in homage and devotion,

These are the Four that are never content, that have never be filled since the Dews began, Jacala's mouth, and the glut of the Kite, and the hands of the Ape, and the Eyes of Man.

Once on a time was a King anxious to understand What was the wisest thing a man could do for his land. Most of his population hurried to answer the question,

Our King went forth on pilgrimage His prayers and vows to pay To them that saved our heritage

After the sack of the City, when Rome was sunk to a name, In the years that the lights were darkened, or ever St. Wilfrid came, Low on the borders of Britain (the ancient poets sing)

Now we are come to our Kingdom, And the State is thus and thus; Our legions wait at the Palace gate,

I've taken my fun where I've found it; I've rouged an' I've ranged in my time; I've 'ad my pickin' o' seethearts,

O woe is me for the merry life I led beyond the Bar, And a treble woe for my winsome wife

When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, He called to him Hobdenius-a Briton of the Clay,

There was a landau deep and wide, Cushioned for Sleep's own self to sit on, The glory of the country-side

"And there was no more sea." Thus said The Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim Calling to the Angels and the Souls in their degree:

Twelve hundred million men are spread About this Earth, and I and You Wonder, when You and I are dead,

How do we know, by the bank-high river, Where the mired and sulky oxen wait, And it looks as though we might wait for ever,

As watchers couched beneath a Bantine oak, Hearing the dawn-wind stir, Know that the present strength of night is broke

There were thirty million English who talked of England's might, There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night. They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;

The King has called for priest and cup, The King has taken spur and blade To dub True Thomas a belted knight,

Not many years ago a King died in one of the Rajpoot States. His wives, disregarding the orders of the English against Suttee, would have broken out of the palace had not the gates been barred. But one of them, disguised as the King's favourite dancing-girl, passed through the line of guards and reached the pyre. There, her courage failing, she prayed her cousin, a baron of the court, to kill her. This he did, not knowing who she was. Udai Chand lay sick to death In his hold by Gungra hill.

Now this is the Law of the Jungle, as old and as true as the sky; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die. As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back,

I This is the sorrowful story Told when the twilight fails

The Four Archangels, so the legends tell, Raphael, Gabriel, Michael, Azrael, Being first of those to whom the Power was shown

Rajah of Kolazai, Drinketh the "simpkin" and brandy peg, Maketh the money to fly,

I This is the sorrowful story Told when the twilight fails

Let us admit it fairly, as a business people should, We have had no end of a lesson: it will do us no end of good. Not on a single issue, or in one direction or twain,

So we settled it all when the storm was done As comfy as comfy could be; And I was to wait in the barn, my dears,

The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds, The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, an' 'e gives 'er all she needs; But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun',

There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand grey to the sun, Singing: "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover,

Queen Bess was Harry's daughter. Stand forward partners all! In ruff and stomacher and gown She danced King Philip down-a down,

There's a Legion that never was listed, That carries no colours or crest, But, split in a thousand detachments,

Alone upon the housetops to the North I turn and watch the lightnings in the sky, The glamour of thy footsteps in the North.

Eyes of grey, a sodden quay, Driving rain and falling tears, As the steamer wears to sea

In Lowestoft a boat was laid, Mark well what I do say! And she was built for the herring-trade,

Shun, shun the Bowl! That fatal, facile drink Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills in 't; Bribe, murder, marry, but steer clear of Ink

Jane Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse Was good beyond all earthly need; But, on the other hand, her spouse

The bachelor 'e fights for one As joyful as can be; But the married man don't call it fun,

I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim, Dick, it's your daddy, dying; you've got to listen to him! Good for a fortnight, am I? The doctor told you? He lied.

Argument. The Indian Government being minded to discover the economic condition of their lands, sent a Committee to inquire into it; and saw that it was good. Scene. The wooded heights of Simla. The Incarnation of the Government of India in the raiment of the Angel of Plenty signs, to pianoforte accompaniment: "How sweet is the shepherd's sweet life!

With us there rade a Maister-Cook that came From the Rochelle which is neere Angouleme. Littel hee was, but rounder than a topp,

A Song of Instruction The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time, So was them that fought at Waterloo!

King Solomon drew merchantmen, Because of his desire For peacocks, apes, and ivory,

The night we felt the earth would move We stole and plucked him by the hand, Because we loved him with the love

I sent a message to my dear, A thousand leagues and more to Her, The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear,

Beneath the deep veranda's shade, When bats begin to fly, I sit me down and watch, alas!

You mustn't groom an Arab with a file. You hadn't ought to tension-spring a mule. You couldn't push a brumby fifty mile

One moment past our bodies cast No shadow on the plain; Now clear and black they stride our track,

I have a dream, a dreadful dream, A dream that is never done. I watch a man go out of his mind,

There was Rundle, Station Master, An' Beazeley of the Rail, An' 'Ackman, Commissariat,

We've drunk to the Queen, God bless her!, We've drunk to our mothers' land; We've drunk to our English brother,

There was a strife 'twixt man and maid, Oh, that was at the birth of time! But what befell 'twixt man and maid,

I know not in Whose hands are laid To empty upon earth From unsuspected ambuscade

Who gives him the Bath? "I," said the wet, Rank-Jungle-sweat,

Where the East wind is brewed fresh and fresh every morning, And the balmy night-breezes blow straight from the Pole, I heard a Destroyer sing: "What an enjoyable life does one lead on the North Sea Patrol!

When, with a pain he desires to explain to the multitude, Baby Howls himself black in the face, toothlessly striving to curse; And the six-months-old Mother begins to enquire of the Gods if it may be

Our sister sayeth such and such, And we must bow to her behests. Our sister toileth overmuch,

Here is nothing new nor aught unproven," say the Trumpets, "Many feet have worn it and the road is old indeed. "It is the King, the King we schooled aforetime! "

This is our lot if we live so long and labour unto the end, Then we outlive the impatient years and the much too patient friend: And because we know we have breath in our mouth and think we have thoughts enough in our head,

"These were never your true love's eyes. Why do you feign that you love them? You that broke from their constancies,

She dropped the bar, she shot the bolt, she fed the fire anew For she heard a whimper under the sill and a great grey paw came through. The fresh flame comforted the hut and shone on the roof-beam,

England is a cosy little country, Excepting for the draughts along the floor. And that is why you're told,

When the earth was sick and the skies were grey, And the woods were rotted with rain, The Dead Man rode through the autumn day

Through learned and laborious years They set themselves to find Fresh terrors and undreamed-of fears

In the name of the Empress of India, make way, O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam. The woods are astir at the close of the day,

When I was a King and a Mason, a Master proven and skilled, I cleared me ground for a Palace such as a King should build. I decreed and dug down to my levels. Presently, under the silt,

We've rode and fought and ate and drunk as rations* come to hand, Together for a year and more around this stinkin' land: Now you are goin' home again, but we must see it through.

The Word came down to Dives in Torment where he lay: "Our World is full of wickedness, My Children maim and slay, "And the Saint and Seer and Prophet

Once in life I watched a Star; But I whistled, "Let her go! There are others, fairer far,

When Rome was rotten-ripe to her fall, And the sceptre passed from her hand, The pestilent Picts leaped over the wall ,

When Rome was rotten-ripe to her fall, And the sceptre passed from her hand, The pestilent Picts leaped over the wall

She is not Folly, that I know. Her steadfast eyelids tell me so When, at the hour the lights divide,

Too late, alas! the song To remedy the wrong; The rooms are taken from us, swept and

0h, late withdrawn from human-kind And following dreams we never knew! Varus, what dream has Fate assigned

Though tangled and twisted the course of true love This ditty explains, No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve

There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store,

I see the grass shake in the sun for leagues on either hand, I see a river loop and run about a treeless land, An empty plain, a steely pond, a distance diamond-clear,

My brother kneels, so saith Kabir, To stone and brass in heathen wise, But in my brother's voice I hear

From the wheel and the drift of Things Deliver us, Good Lord, And we will face the wrath of Kings,

The Soldier may forget his Sword, The Sailorman the Sea, The Mason may forget the Word

The overfaithful sword returns the user His heart's desire at price of his heart's blood. The clamour of the arrogant accuser

Here come I to my own again, Fed, forgiven and known again, Claimed by bone of my bone again

This spark now set, retarded, yet forbears To hold her light however so he swears That turns a metalled crank, and leather cloked,

The Celt in all his variants from Builth to Ballyhoo, His mental processes are plain, one knows what he will do, And can logically predicate his finish by his start;

"I have a thousand men," said he, "To wait upon my will; And towers nine upon the Tyne,

Valour and Innocence Have latterly gone hence To certain death by certain shame attended.

Brethren, how shall it fare with me When the war is laid aside, If it be proven that I am he

The knight came home from the quest, Muddied and sore he came. Battered of shield and crest,

If Thought can reach to Heaven, On Heaven let it dwell, For fear the Thought be given

I am the land of their fathers, In me the virtue stays. I will bring back my children,

At Runnymede, At Runnymede, What say the reeds at Runnymede? The lissom reeds that give and take,

Not in the camp his victory lies Or triumph in the market-place, Who is his Nation's sacrifice

Peace is declared, and I return To 'Ackneystadt, but not the same; Things 'ave transpired which made me learn

Neither the harps nor the crowns amused, nor the cherubs' dove-winged races, Holding hands forlornly the Children wandered beneath the Dome, Plucking the splendid robes of the passers-by, and with pitiful! faces

... At the close of a winter day, Their anchors down, by London town, the Three Great Captains lay; And one was Admiral of the North from Solway Firth to Skye,

Away by the lands of the Japanee Where the paper lanterns glow And the crews of all the shipping drink

Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew, (Twenty bridges or twenty-two), Wanted to know what the River knew,

Legate, I had the news last night, my cohort ordered home By ships to Portus Itius and thence by road to Rome. I've marched the companies aboard, the arms are stowed below:

It was not in the open fight We threw away the sword, But in the lonely watching

The banked oars fell an hundred strong, And backed and threshed and ground, But bitter was the rowers' song

The Weald is good, the Downs are best, I'll give you the run of 'em, East to West. Beachy Head and Winddoor Hill,

A smith makes me To betray my Man In my first fight.

News! What is the word that they tell now, now, now! The little drums beating in the bazaars?

Now the New Year, reviving last Year's Debt, The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his Net; So I with begging Dish and ready Tongue

Strangers drawn from the ends of the earth, jewelled and plumed were we; I was Lord of the Inca race, and she was Queen of the Sea. Under the stars beyond our stars where the new-forged meteors glow,

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence the tale

'Oh, show me how a rose can shut and be a bud again!' Nay, watch my Lords of the Admiralty, for they have the work in train. They have taken the men that were careless lads at Dartmouth in 'Fourteen

Who hath desired the Sea?, the sight of salt wind-hounded, The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber win hounded? The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing,

There dwells a wife by the Northern Gate, And a wealthy wife is she; She breeds a breed o' rovin' men

We've sent our little Cupids all ashore, They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold: Our sails of silk and purple go to store,

We were taken from the ore-bed and the mine, We were melted in the furnace and the pit, We were cast and wrought and hammered to design,

'E was warned agin' 'er, That's what made 'im look; She was warned agin' 'im,

Three things make earth unquiet And four she cannot brook The godly Agur counted them

'Tommy' you was when it began, But now that it is o'er You shall be called The Service Man

Here, where my fresh-turned furrows run, And the deep soil glistens red, I will repair the wrong that was done

We now, held in captivity, Spring to our bondage nor grieve, See now, how it is blesseder,

Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant To the Senior Orderly Man: "Our Orderly Orf'cer's ~hokee-mut~,

This is the mouth-filling song of the race that was run by a Boomer. Run in a single burst, only event of its kind, Started by Big God Nqong from Warrigaborrigarooma,

The first time that Peter denied his Lord He shrank from the cudgel, the scourge and the cord, But followed far off to see what they would do,

The God of Fair Beginnings Hath prospered here my hand, The cargoes of my lading,

I was Lord of Cities very sumptuously builded. Seven roaring Cities paid me tribute from far. Ivory their outposts were,the guardrooms of them gilded,

You couldn't pack a Broadwood half a mile, You mustn't leave a fiddle in the damp You couldn't raft an organ up the Nile,

BOMBAY Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands,

Hear now the Song of the Dead, in the North by the torn berg-edges, They that look still to the Pole, asleep by their hide-stripped sledges. Song of the Dead in the South, in the sun by their skeleton horses,

Ere Mor the Peacock flutters, ere the Monkey People cry, Ere Chil the Kite swoops down a furlong sheer, Through the Jungle very softly flits a shadow and a sigh,

Know this, my brethren, Heaven is clear And all the clouds are gone, The Proper Sort shall flourish now,

One from the ends of the earth, gifts at an open door, Treason has much, but we, Mother, thy sons have more! From the whine of a dying man, from the snarl of a wolf-pack freed,

How shall she know the worship we would do her? The walls are high, and she is very far. How shall the woman's message reach unto her

Being the Words of the Tune Hummed at Her Lathe by Mrs. L. Embsay, Widow The fans and the beltings they roar round me. The power is shaking the floor round me

The Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part; But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and the troubled heart. And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,

There are not leaders to lead us to honour, and yet without leaders we sally, Each man reporting for duty alone, out of sight, out of reach, of his fellow. There are no bugles to call the battalions, and yet without bugle we rally

Man goes to Man! Cry the challenge through the Jungle! He that was our Brother goes away. Hear, now, and judge, O ye People of the Jungle,

This is the midnight-let no star Delude us-dawn is very far. This is the tempest long foretold,

Once, on a glittering ice-field, ages and ages ago, Ung, a maker of pictures, fashioned an image of snow. Fashioned the form of a tribesman, gaily he whistled and sung,

"Now there were two men in one city; the one rich, and the other poor." Jack Barrett went to Quetta Because they told him to.

The Stranger within my gate, He may be true or kind, But he does not talk my talk,

I pray! My little body and whole span Of years is Thine, my Owner and my Man. For Thou hast made me, unto Thee I owe

!Full Chorus. To Him Who bade the Heavens abide, yet cease not from their motion, To Him Who tames the moonstruck tide twice a day round Ocean,

Securely, after days Unnumbered, I behold Kings mourn that promised praise

There's no wind along these seas, Out oars for Stavenger! Forward all for Stavenger!

One man in a thousand, Solomon says, Will stick more close than a brother. And it's worth while seeking him half your days

Full thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail. It took a watch to steer her, and a week to shorten sail; But, spite all modern notions, I've found her first and best,

In their deepest caverns of limestone They pictured the Gods of Food, The Horse, the Elk, and the Bison

Ere the mother's milk had dried On my lips, the Brethren came, Tore me from my nurse's side,

Thirteen as twelve my Murray always took, He was a publisher. The new Police Have neater ways of bringing men to book,

They bear, in place of classic names, Letters and numbers on their skin. They play their grisly blindfold games

Yearly, with tent and rifle, our careless white men go By the Pass called Muttianee, to shoot in the vale below. Yearly by Muttianee he follows our white men in,

Valour and Innocence Have latterly gone hence To certain death by certain shame attended.

Much I owe to the Lands that grew, More to the Lives that fed, But most to Allah Who gave me two

There is a word you often see, pronounce it as you may, 'You bike,' 'you bikwe,' 'ubbikwe', alludin' to R.A. It serves 'Orse, Field, an' Garrison as motto for a crest,

"To-tschin-shu is condemned to death. How can he drink tea with the Executioner?" Japanese Proverb.

A fool there was and he made his prayer (Even as you and I!) To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair

Not in the thick of the fight, Not in the press of the odds, Do the heroes come to their height,

To-day, across our fathers' graves, The astonished years reveal The remnant of that desperate host

At the eleventh hour he came, But his wages were the same As ours who all day long had trod

Try as he will, no man breaks wholly loose From his first love, no matter who she be. Oh, was there ever sailor free to choose,

The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire, He shall fulfill God's utmost will unknowing His desire; And he shall see old planets pass and alien stars arise,

Oh, glorious are the guarded heights Where guardian souls abide, Self-exiled from our gross delights,

From the date that the doors of his prep-school close On the lonely little son He is taught by precept, insult, and blows

Put forth to watch, unschooled, alone, 'Twixt hostile earth and sky; The mottled lizard 'neath the stone

They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again,

When the waters' countenance Blurs 'twixt glance and second glance; When our tattered smokes forerun

Take up the White man's burden Send forth the best ye breed Go bind your sons to exile

Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us, And black are the waters that sparkled so green. The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead? She 'as ships on the foam she 'as millions at 'ome,

"Where have you been this while away, Johnnie, Johnnie?" 'Long with the rest on a picnic lay,

For a season there must be pain For a little, little space I shall lose the sight of her face,

What the moral? Who rides may read. When the night is thick and the tracks are blind A friend at a pinch is a friend, indeed,

Life's all getting and giving, I've only myself to give. What shall I do for a living?

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East 'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast, An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased

"And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it his brethren and they hated him yet the more.", Genesis xxxvii. 5. Oh ye who hold the written clue To all save all unwritten things,

There's no wind along these seas, Out oars for Stavanger! Forward all for Stavanger!

There were three friends that buried the fourth, The mould in his mouth and the dust in his eyes, And they went south and east and north,

Stopped in the straight when the race was his own Look at him cutting it'cur to the bone! Ask ere the youngster be rated and chidden

What of the hunting, hunter bold? Brother, the watch was long and cold. What of the quarry ye went to kill?

The ships destroy us above And ensnare us beneath. We arise, we lie down, and we

Love's fiery chariot, Delia, take Which Vulcan wrought for Venus' sake. Wings shall not waft thee, but a flame

Your trail runs to the westward, And mine to my own place; There is water between our lodges,

Since ye distemper and defile Sweet Here by the measured mile, Nor aught on jocund highways heed

I have made for you a song, And it may be right or wrong, But only you can tell me if it's true;

The Cities are full of pride, Challenging each to each, This from her mountain-side,

Thy face is far from this our war, Our call and counter-cry, I shall not find Thee quick and kind,

Will you conquer my heart with your beauty; my sould going out from afar? Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty and cautions shikar? Have I met you and passed you already, unknowing, unthinking and blind?

I have made for you a song And it may be right or wrong, But only you can tell me if it's true.

Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled, Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled, Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.

How comes it that, at even-tide, When level beams should show most truth, Man, failing, takes unfailing pride

The World hath set its heavy yoke Upon the old white-bearded folk Who strive to please the King.

Where Horse and Rider each can trust the other everywhere, It takes a fence and more than a fence to pound that happy pair; For the one will do what the other demands, although he is beaten and blown,

Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square, And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him by the hair A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried him far away,

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer, The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here." The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,

I will remember what I was. I am sick of rope and chain, I will remember my old strength and all my forest-affairs. I will not sell my back to man for a bundle of sugarcane.

Troopin', troopin', troopin' to the sea: 'Ere's September come again, the six-year men are free. O leave the dead be'ind us, for they cannot come away

Only two African kopjes, Only the cart-tracks that wind Empty and open between 'em,

June No hope, no change! The clouds have shut us in, And through the cloud the sullen Sun strikes down

I seek not what his soul desires. He dreads not what my spirit fears. Our Heavens have shown us separate fires.

There is a word you often see, pronounce it as you may 'You bike,' 'you bykwee,' 'ubbikwe ', alludin' to R.A. It serves 'Orse, Field, an' Garrison as motto for a crest,

The dark eleventh hour Draws on and sees us sold To every evil power

Nothing in life has been made by man for man's using But it was shown long since to man in ages Lost as the name of the maker of it,

Here is a horse to tame Here is a gun to handle God knows you can enter the game

On the Downs, in the Weald, on the Marshes, I heard the Old Gods say: 'Here come Very Many People:

Father and Mother, and Me, Sister and Auntie say All the people like us are We,

Hurree Chunder Mookerjee, pride of Bow Bazaar, Owner of a native press, "Barrishter-at-Lar," Waited on the Government with a claim to wear

By the well, where the bullocks go Silent and blind and slow, By the field where the young corn dies

When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre, He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea; An' what he thought 'e might require,

When Earth's last picture is painted and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colours have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it, lie down for an aeon or two,

When the Great Ark, in Vigo Bay, Rode stately through the half-manned fleet, From every ship about her way

When that with meat and drink they had fulfilled Not temperately but like him conceived In monstrous jest at Meudon, whose regale

Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap

(Deserters) There is a world outside the one you know, To which for curiousness 'Ell can't compare,

South and far south below the Line, Our Admiral leads us on, Above, undreamed-of planets shine,

More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi, an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps, on his saddle-bow.    He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety. A Maratta trooper tells the story:, The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,

More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi, an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps, on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety. A Maratta trooper tells the story:, The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,

Yet at the last, ere our spearmen had found him, Yet at the last, ere a sword-thrust could save, Yet at the last, with his masters around him,

You must n't swim till you're six weeks old, Or your head will be sunk by your heels; And summer gales and Killer Whales

The Doorkeepers of Zion, They do not always stand In helmet and whole armour,