human
Can you write me a poem about rudyard kipling, the seven mary e. burt and kangaroo?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about rudyard kipling, the seven mary e. burt and kangaroo:
  _From Rudyard Kipling's The Seven
MARY E. BURT AND W. T. CHAPIN, PH.D. (Princeton)
(_Continued from Book I, Riverside Literature
the Deodars," etc.)
Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-room
(from "Departmental Ditties and
Ballads and Barrack-room Ballads")
(from "Just So Stories")
Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-room
Barrack-room Ballads")
Barrack-room Ballads")
Barrack-room Ballads")
"The Day's Work")
A picture of Old Man Kangaroo when he was
the Different Animal with four short legs
Old Man Kangaroo at five in the afternoon,
when he had got his beautiful hind legs
just as Big God Nqong had promised
rebuilding of large portions of the town, and a need was felt for
It was thus that Rudyard Kipling came to be born in the most
In the spring of 1868 he was taken by his mother for a visit to
whosoever might have charge of him unless they were gifted with
In the spring of 1877 Mrs. Kipling came to England to see her
On the return of his parents to India, early in 1878, Rudyard was
fathers' careers as servants of the Crown. It was in charge of an
venturesome enough to send a copy of verses to a London journal,
relatives and family friends with whom his holidays were spent. A
Burne-Jones was a supreme blessing in his life.
In the autumn of 1882, having finished his course at school, a
position was secured for him on the _Civil and Military Gazette_,
community.
Kipling's work for five years at Lahore had indeed been of such
quality that it was not surprising that he was called down to
The _Pioneer_ issued a weekly as well as a daily edition, and in
September, 1889, he arrived in London.
The winter of 1897-98 was spent by Mr. Kipling and his family,
Returning to England in the spring of 1898, he took a house at
Of the later incidents of his life there is no need to speak.
At the School Council Baa, Baa, Black Sheep was elected to a
very high position among the Kipling Stories "because it
shows how mean they were to a boy and he did n't need it."
Have you any wool?
Yes, Sir; yes, Sir; three bags full.
None for the Little Boy that cries down the lane.
"When I was in my father's house, I was in a better place."
inside her mosquito-curtains, was nearly asleep. Punch had been
"Punch-baba going to bye-lo?" said the ayah suggestively.
"But Judy-Baba will wake up," said the ayah.
Never had Punch secured the telling of that tale with so little
opposition. He reflected for a long time. The hamal made the
tiger-noises in twenty different keys.
"The worst of it is that the children will grow up away from me,"
"And who could help loving my Ju?"
"Come back, Punch-baba," said the ayah.
"Come back," said Meeta, "and be a Burra Sahib."
But Judy was much worse. The day before the steamer reached
swallowed all her tiny past, and she said: "Ayah! What ayah?"
"'Torse I do," said Judy.
So Judy promised always to "bemember Mamma."
"I'll come into your room," said Punch, and Papa choked.
"Let us go away," said Punch. "This is not a pretty place."
dining-room and considered things.
The wish bore no fruit. For six days Mamma wept at intervals, and
Punch," he confided to Judy. "What is Antirosa?"
Judy did n't know. Neither she nor Punch had heard anything of an
"She is a model of the _Brisk_--the little _Brisk_ that was sore
Nassick; that was across the sea. To some place much nearer, of
meaning of separation.
pleased; and Judy was promised free entry into the kitchen. They
"Iss," said Judy. "They've only forgotted. Less go to the sea."
The hall-door was open and so was the garden-gate.
heath, potato-field, and sand-dune.
"I'se so tired," said Judy, "and Mamma will be angry."
And "Uncleharri" found them by chance--very muddy and very
Ah, well-a-day, for we are souls bereaved!
Of all the creatures under Heaven's wide scope
We are most hopeless, who had once most hope,
And most beliefless, who had most believed.
This lapse was excusable, because in the interval he had been
there--and a dirty brown book filled with unintelligible dots and
"Why?" said Punch. "A is a and B is bee. Why does A B mean ab?"
Punch regarded him with curiosity. He had not the least idea what
angry.
shuddered to the tips of his shoes. "It was n't my fault," he
But that week brought a great joy to Punch.
"Now I can truly read," said Punch, "and now I will never read
anything in the world."
"falchion" and split the Griffin open. Goodness only knew what a
falchion was, but there was the Griffin, and his history was an
improvement upon the eternal Cat.
"This," said Punch, "means things, and now I will know all about
everything in all the world." He read till the light failed, not
"What is a 'falchion'? What is a 'e-wee lamb'? What is a 'base
ussurper'? What is a 'verdant me-ad'? he demanded, with flushed
cheeks, at bedtime, of the astonished Aunt Rosa.
delightful exercise of reading.
incomprehensible, and odd leaves of "Gulliver's Travels."
"I was reading," he explained, "reading a book. I want to read."
Judy did not pass a very enjoyable playtime with Punch, who was
"It's what I like to do," he said, "and she's found out that and
strange gentleman--Harry's uncle, not his own--with requests for
At this point Harry entered and stood afar off, eying Punch, a
disheveled heap in the corner of the room, with disgust.
Having reduced Punch to a second agony of tears Harry departed
upstairs with the news that Punch was still rebellious.
possessed.
From that day began the downfall of Punch, now Black Sheep.
would wake him up in the night to ask him why he was such a liar.
"I don't know," Punch would reply.
"'Course she was. So was Papa. So was everybody."
"Pull, then," said Punch.
Judy pulled gingerly.
avoidance of Harry he acquired virtue and was allowed to read
A month later, he turned sharp round, ere half a morning walk was
"Our vanship was the Asia--
"And next came on the lovely Rose,
The Philomel, her fire-ship, closed,
And the Little Brisk was sore exposed
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
"How do you like school?" said Aunty Rosa at the end of the day.
"I think it is a very nice place," said Punch quietly.
Harry did not fail to make much capital out of Black Sheep's
As time went on and the memory of Papa and Mamma became wholly
remember about Bombay" failed to quicken him.
"Aunty Rosa will kiss you if you are good," pleaded Judy.
The weeks lengthened into months, and the holidays came; but just
scuffle, and Black Sheep was torn off the body by Harry and some
"Will he die?" said Black Sheep.
"I daresay," said Harry, "and then you'll be hanged."
don't know how things happen, and you never leave me alone--and I
thoroughly cowed down, by Harry, but he was further prayed for at
landing was exactly one hundred and eighty-four handspans. He had
clumsiness--was as unfit to trust in action as he was in word. He
ghosts, and the nameless terrors of broad daylight that were only
wrapped round Aunty Rosa.
prayers and tell me I'm a Child of the Devil and give me hymns to
Sheep, having reached the Nadir of Sin, bore himself with a new
recklessness.
charged into a solid tea-table laden with china.
"What bird?" asked Black Sheep.
The visitor looked deep down into Black Sheep's eyes for a half a
It was a most business-like visitor. He gave orders, on his own
For the next three weeks Black Sheep was strictly allowed to do
"Well, chicks, do you remember me?"
"Oh, my son--my little, little son! It was my fault--my fault,
everything?"
"No. It saved a lickin'."
Mamma shuddered and slipped away in the darkness to write a long
letter to Papa. Here is an extract:
beginning of falsehood? I shall win Punch to me before long. I am
"An officer and a gentleman."
His full name was Percival William Williams, but he picked up the
Here was one of the most embarrassing of Wee Willie Winkie's
Three weeks after the bestowal of his youthful affections on
"Coppy," shouted Wee Willie Winkie, reining up outside that
"By Jove! You're beginning early. Who do you want to kiss?"
morning, by ve canal?"
Coppy's brow wrinkled. He and Miss Allardyce had with great craft
"Exactly," said Coppy gravely.
There was a long pause, broken by Wee Willie Winkie.
"Are you fond of vis big girl, Coppy?"
"Awfully!" said Coppy.
"Fonder van you are of Bell or ve Butcha--or me?"
confinement to barracks--the house and veranda--coupled with the
withdrawal of the light of his father's countenance.
Very early the next morning he climbed on to the roof of the
"Where are you going?" cried Wee Willie Winkie.
"Across the river," she answered, and trotted forward.
hazards be turned back.
She showed a readiness to weep afresh which steadied Wee Willie
"Oh, Winkie! What are you doing?"
They came up to the boulders on which Miss Allardyce's horse had
blundered.
The men laughed, and laughter from natives was the one thing Wee
crooked-stocked guns crept out of the shadows of the hills, till,
"Who are you?" said one of the men.
"Say that I sent you--I, the Colonel's son. They will give you
heights," said a voice in the background.
These were the Bad Men--worse than Goblins--and it needed all Wee
"Are you going to carry us away?" said Wee Willie Winkie, very
blanched and uncomfortable.
Speech in any vernacular--and Wee Willie Winkie had a colloquial
happened to the Colonel's son," he shouted.
"You're a hero, Winkie," said Coppy--"a pukka hero!"
And in this manner did Wee Willie Winkie enter into his manhood.
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.
Dove--dove--oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight--
"If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove--dove--oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep--
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove, if the dove--if the homing dove
Come and alone to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad--
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stooped at the ford,
And the dove--the dove--oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace wall.
She opened her wings and she flew away--
Fluttered away beyond recall;
She came to the palace at break of day.
Dove--dove--oh, homing dove!
Flying so fast for a kingdom's fall.
The Queens of Dacca they slept in flame--
Slept in the flame of the palace old--
To save their honour from Moslem shame.
And the dove--the dove--oh, the homing dove!
She cooed to her young where the smoke-cloud rolled.
The Rajah of Dacca rode far and fleet,
Followed as fast as a horse could fly,
He came and the palace was black at his feet;
And the dove--the dove--the homing dove,
Circled alone in the stainless sky.
So the dove flew to the Rajah's tower--
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings;
So the thorns covered the city of Gaur,
And Dacca was lost for a white dove's wings.
Dove--dove--oh, homing dove,
Dacca is lost from the roll of the kings!
(_To whom it may concern._)
The smoke upon your Altar dies,
The flowers decay,
The Goddess of your sacrifice
Has flown away.
What profit, then, to sing or slay
The sacrifice from day to day?
"We know the Shrine is void," they said,
"The Goddess flown--
Yet wreaths are on the Altar laid--
Is black with fumes of sacrifice,
Albeit She has fled our eyes.
"For it may be, if still we sing
And tend the Shrine,
Some Deity on wandering wing
May there incline;
And, finding all in order meet,
Stay while we worship at Her feet."
The Recessional is one of the most popular poems of this
century. It is a warning to age and a nation drunk with
power, a rebuke to materialistic tendencies and
boastfulness, a protest against pride.
"Reverence is the master-key of knowledge."
God of our fathers, known of old--
Lord of our far-flung battle-line--
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet
Lest we forget--lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies--
The captains and the kings depart--
Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt away--
On dune and headland sinks the fire--
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe--
Such boasting as the Gentiles use
Or lesser breeds without the Law--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard--
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard--
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen.
or two,
Till the Master of All Good Workmen shall set us to work anew!
afternoon."
Up jumped Nquing from his burrow in the spinifex and shouted, "Go
He was gray and he was woolly, and his pride was inordinate: he
Nqong called Dingo--Yellow-Dog Dingo--always hungry, dusty in the
popular and very truly run after. Dingo, make him so!"
Up jumped Dingo--Yellow-Dog Dingo--and said, "What, _that_
Off ran Dingo--Yellow-Dog Dingo--always hungry, grinning like a
coal-scuttle--ran after Kangaroo.
Off went the proud Kangaroo on his four little legs like a bunny.
This, O Beloved of mine, ends the first part of the tale!
He ran through the desert; he ran through the mountains; he ran
He had to!
Still ran Dingo--Yellow-Dog Dingo--always hungry, grinning like a
He had to!
He had to!
He had to!
He hopped through the Flinders; he hopped through the Cinders; he
For he hopped like a cricket; like a pea in a saucepan; or a new
rubber ball on a nursery floor.
He had to!
He had to!
Down sat Kangaroo--Old Man Kangaroo--stuck out his tail like a
milking-stool behind him, and said, "Thank goodness _that's_
finished!"
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,
Old Man Kangaroo first: Yellow-Dog Dingo behind.
Kangaroo bounded away,
His back-legs working like pistons--
Bounded from morning till dark,
Twenty-five feet to a bound.
Like a yellow cloud in the distance--
Much too busy to bark.
My! but they covered the ground!
Nobody knows where they went,
Or followed the track that they flew in,
For that Continent
Had n't been given a name.
They ran thirty degrees,
(Look at the Atlas, please),
And they ran back as they came.
S'posing you could trot
For an afternoon's run--
Half what these gentlemen did--
You would feel rather hot
But your legs would develop terrific--
Yes, my importunate son,
You'd be a Marvellous Kid!
At the School Council Fuzzy-Wuzzy was elected Vice-President
of Mr. Kipling's Poems, "because he was so brave."
We've fought with many men acrost the seas,
An' some of 'em was brave an' some was not:
But the Fuzzy was the finest o' the lot.
We never got a ha'porth's change of 'im:
'E squatted in the scrub an' 'ocked our 'orses,
'E cut our sentries up at Suakim,
An' 'e played the cat an' banjo with our forces.
So 'ere's _to_ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Sowdan;
You 're a poor benighted 'eathen, but a first-class fightin' man;
We'll come an' 'ave a romp with you whenever you're inclined.
We took our chanst among the Khyber hills,
The Boers knocked us silly at a mile,
The Burman guv us Irriwaddy chills,
An' a Zulu _impi_ dished us up in style;
But all we ever got from such as they
Was pop to what the Fuzzy made us swaller;
We 'eld our bloomin' own, the papers say,
But man for man the Fuzzy knocked us 'oller.
Then 'ere's _to_ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' the missis an' the kid,
Our orders was to break you, an' of course we went an' did.
We sloshed you with Martinis, an' it was n't 'ardly fair;
But for all the odds agin you, Fuzzy Wuz, you bruk the square.
'E 'as n't got no papers of 'is own,
'E 'as n't got no medals nor rewards,
So we must certify the skill 'e 's shown
In usin' of 'is long two-'anded swords;
When 'e 's 'oppin' in an' out among the bush
With 'is coffin-headed shield an' shovel-spear,
A 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush
Will last a 'ealthy Tommy for a year.
So 'ere 's _to_ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, an' your friends which is no
more,
If we 'ad n't lost some messmates we would 'elp you to deplore;
But give an' take 's the gospel, an' we'll call the bargain fair,
'E rushes at the smoke, when we let drive,
An', before we know, 'e 's 'ackin' at our 'ead;
'E 's all 'ot sand an ginger when alive,
An' 'e 's generally shammin' when 'e 's dead.
'E 's a daisy, 'e 's a duck, 'e 's a lamb!
'E 's the on'y thing that does n't care a clam
So 'ere's _to_ you, Fuzzy-Wuzzy, at your 'ome in the Sowdan;
You 're a pore benighted 'eathen but a first-class fightin' man;
Above the portico the Union Jack remained fluttering in the
flames for some time, but ultimately when it fell the crowds
rent the air with shouts, and seemed to see significance in
the incident.--_Daily Papers._
Winds of the World, give answer? They are whimpering to and fro--
The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,
Must we borrow a clout from the Boer--to plaster anew with dirt?
An Irish liar's bandage, or an English coward's shirt?
We may not speak of England; her Flag's to sell or share.
What is the Flag of England? Winds of the World, declare!
The North Wind blew:--"From Bergen my steel-shod vanguards go;
I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe;
By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,
"I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame,
Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came;
"The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night,
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my bergs to dare,
Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"
Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon.
"Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys,
I waked the palms to laughter--I tossed the scud in the breeze--
Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone,
But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown.
"I have wrenched it free from the halliard, to hang for a wisp on
"My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling albatross,
Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the Southern Cross.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my reefs to dare,
Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is there!"
Look--look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon
"The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before,
I raped your richest roadstead--I plundered Singapore!
I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose,
"Never the lotos closes, never the wild-fowl wake,
Because on the bones of the English the English Flag is stayed.
"The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows.
The scared white leopard winds it across the taint-less snows.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my sun to dare,
Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there!"
The West Wind called:--"In squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly
They make my might their porter, they make my house their path,
"I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn from the hole;
They bellow one to the other, the frightened ship-bells toll,
"But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day,
I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away,
First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky,
Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare,
Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!"
"Farewell, Romance!" the Cave-men said;
"With bone well carved he went away;
Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead,
And jasper tips the spear to-day.
And he with these. Farewell, Romance!"
"Farewell, Romance!" the Lake-folk sighed;
"We lift the weight of flatling years;
The caverns of the mountain side
Hold him who scorns our hutted piers.
Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell,
Guard ye his rest. Romance, farewell!"
"Farewell, Romance!" the Soldier spoke;
"By sleight of sword we may not win,
But scuffle 'mid uncleanly smoke
Of arquebus and culverin.
Honour is lost, and none may tell
Who paid good blows. Romance, farewell!"
"Farewell, Romance!" the Traders cried;
"Our keels ha' lain with every sea;
The dull-returning wind and tide
Heave up the wharf where we would be;
The known and noted breezes swell
Our trudging sail. Romance, farewell!"
"Good-bye, Romance!" the Skipper said;
"He vanished with the coal we burn;
Our dial marks full steam ahead.
Our speed is timed to half a turn.
Sure as the tidal trains we ply
'Twixt port and port. Romance, good-bye!"
"Romance!" the Season-tickets mourn,
"_He_ never ran to catch his train,
But passed with coach and guard and horn--
And left the local--late again!
Confound Romance!" ... And all unseen
Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.
His hand was on the lever laid,
His oil-can soothed the worrying cranks,
His whistle waked the snow-bound grade,
His fog-horn cut the reeking Banks;
In dock and deep and mine and mill
The Boy-god reckless laboured still.
Robed, crowned and throned, he wove his spell,
Where heart-blood beat or hearth-smoke curled
With unconsidered miracle,
Hedged in a backward-gazing world:
Then taught his chosen bard to say:
"The King was with us--yesterday!"
To the God that they knew not an altar--so I, a young Pagan, have
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,
But no galley on the water with our galley could compare!
The white foam spun behind us, and the black shark swam below,
As we gripped the kicking sweep-head and we made that galley go.
It was merry in the galley, for we revelled now and then--
Our women and our children toiled beside us in the dark--
We had only time to envy, for we could not mourn our dead.
Bear witness, once my comrades, what a hard-bit gang were we--
The servants of the sweep-head, but the masters of the sea!
By the hands that drove her forward as she plunged and yawed and
sheered,
Woman, Man, or God, or Devil, was there anything we feared?
Was it storm? Our fathers faced it, and a wilder never blew;
But to-day I leave the galley, and another takes my place;
There's my name upon the deck-beam--let it stand a little space.
I am free--to watch my messmates beating out to open main,
Free of all that Life can offer--save to handle sweep again.
By the brand upon my shoulder, by the gall of clinging steel,
By the welt the whips have left me, by the scars that never heal;
But to-day I leave the galley. Shall I curse her service then?
partner.
"I thought father said she was exceptionally well found."
"The engines are working beautifully. I can hear them."
"And how will you do it?" the girl asked.
"Well enough--true by plumb an' rule, o' course; but there's no
"That's more metaphysical than I can follow," said Miss Frazier,
laughing.
"Can't you keep still up there?" said the deck-beams. "What's the
"Who might you be?" the deck-beams inquired.
eighteen inches distant from the next, and each riveted to the
What's that?"
He rose with a roar as the _Dimbula_ plunged, and
circumstances."
"The circumstances will attend to the blowing. I've worked on the
devices till the weather betters."
"The sea pushes me up in a way I should never have expected," the
"When in doubt, hold on," rumbled the Steam, making head in the
boilers.
"As far as Cape Hatteras----" He drenched the bridge.
meteorological corollaries."
"Not knowing, can't say. Wind may blow a bit by midnight. Thanks
awfully. Good-bye."
"We are not what you might call idle," groaned all the frames
"Ease off! Ease off, there!" roared the garboard-strake. "I want
one-eighth of an inch fair play. D' you hear me, you rivets!"
"We believe you, my boy!" whistled the funnel-stays through their
"Nonsense! We must all pull together," the decks repeated. "Pull
lengthways."
"Rigidity! Rigidity! Rigidity!" thumped the engines. "Absolute,
unvarying rigidity--rigidity!"
"I've got one-fraction of an inch play, at any rate," said the
"Don't say I told you," whispered the Steam, consolingly; "but,
"No one rivet was ever meant to. Share it among you," the Steam
answered.
"Now it's all finished," he said dismally. "The conspiracy is too
"_Hurraar! Brrrraaah! Brrrrrrp!_" roared the Steam through the
Here the _Dimbula_ shot down a hollow, lying almost on her
side--righting at the bottom with a wrench and a spasm.
"Watch us and you'll see," said the bow-plates, proudly. "Ready,
pounding along cheerfully.
"Sea's going down fast," said the Steam.
Marionette" with variations.
Next day the sky cleared and the sea dropped a little, and the
"It's vera good," said the chief engineer, looking along the
creatures, begged the Steam to warn the Port of New York of their
suffered as we have--is there, now?"
cut-water to the propeller-blades of the _Dimbula_.
The Steam knew what had happened at once; for when a ship finds
"Who are you?" he said, with a laugh.
In the days of old Rameses--are you on?
In the days of old Rameses--are you on?
In the days of old Rameses,
That story had paresis,
Are you on--are you on--are you on?
Harvey N. Cheyne, a spoiled darling, "perhaps fifteen years
old," "an American--first, last, and all the time," had
"staggered over the wet decks to the nearest rail," after
trying to smoke a "Wheeling stogie." "He was fainting from
seasickness, and a roll of the ship tilted him over the
rail," where a "gray mother-wave tucked him under one arm."
He was picked up by the fishing schooner _We're Here_, and
after many marvellous experiences among the sailors arrived
in port, a happier and wiser fellow. His telegram to his
father brings the following result.
precedence of one hundred and seventy-seven others meeting and
medicine. I'd play you a game o' dominoes, but it's Sunday."
"Try to sleep a little, mamma, and we'll be in Chicago before you
"But it's Boston, father. Tell them to hurry."
Accordingly the great fire-horse was "let out" from Flagstaff to
Winslow, till a division superintendent protested.
But Mrs. Cheyne, in the boudoir stateroom, where the French maid,
grilled on till the crash of the couplings and the wheeze of the
waiting train. Now they looked out into great abysses, a trestle
At Dodge City an unknown hand threw in a copy of a Kansas paper
conveyed by the crews to the engineers at Nickerson, Topeka, and
"I can't see the dial, and my eyes ache so. What are we doing?"
Now the highly paid specialist who conveys the Lake Shore and
tide-water to tide-water--total time, eighty-seven hours and
"It's too hard," said the Big Boy. "I don't know what
'Zodiac' means." "I will hunt up the words for you in the
dictionary," said the Little Girl. And when they came to the
next story the Boy took pleasure in doing his own hunting in
the dictionary.
Though thou love her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Though her parting dim the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
Heartily know
When half Gods go
The gods arrive.--_Emerson._
A mother would fling herself before the feet of the Twins, or the
"What is the use of wasting flowers on those dull Gods. They will
The Girl jumped up and put her arms around the woman, crying, "I
understand. Give me the flowers and I will give you a kiss."
The man answered, "Darling, of course."
sacrifices they made to you, Leo?"
"As I am Leo's wife," said the Girl quickly, her eyes staring.
"He wished to die," said Leo. "He said that he wished to die, and
"For _their_ sakes," said Leo, very loudly.
"And love as we do?" said the Girl.
brandishing his tail over his back.
Leo dropped back to the earth again, and saw the great star
"What has that to do with this disgraceful exhibition?" said Leo,
"Do you like this?" Leo called down the dripping furrows.
"I cannot," said the Ram. "The Archer told me that on some day of
"Do you like this?" cried Leo over the shoulders of the crowd.
"What are you doing here?" said Leo, indignant.
"Playing," said the Twins calmly.
"Cannot you play on the banks of the Milky Way?" said Leo.
"Do you like it?" said Leo.
"Why do you trouble the children of men?" said Leo. There was no
"When is the appointed time?" said Leo, stepping back from the
restless movement of the mouth.
"Must I be afraid for two, then?"
"For two," said the Crab, "and as many more as may come after."
"I am afraid now," said Leo.
"Now, what shall we do?" said Leo.
"The certainty of death?" said Leo.
"Well," said the Bull, "what will you do?"
Leo sat down on the dike and said that he did not know.
"You cannot pull a plough," said the Bull, with a little touch of
Leo was angry, and said nothing till the dawn broke, and the
cultivator came to yoke the Bull to his work.
"Sing," said the Bull, as the stiff, muddy ox-bow creaked and
"To a mud-spattered villager?" said Leo.
Leo flushed, and began again with a sore throat and a bad temper.
"Now yours must be a very pleasant life," said the cultivator;
"Yes," said he; and they went away hand in hand.
"You can sing beautifully, Leo," said she, as a wife will to her
husband.
"What were you doing?" said he.
"And--and I am to go on with this--this gipsy work?" said Leo.
"Yes, dear, and I will help you."
In their wanderings they came across the Bull, or the Ram, or the
Aldebaran was crusted with caked dirt on the Bull's forehead, the
After one of these sorrowful, shameful days, the Girl, walking by
"What is it?" said Leo. He was thinking of the other singers.
remembering what the Crab had said.
"Surely we were Gods once," he cried.
afraid? And since then ... we have forgotten what we were singing
"It was my fault," said Leo.
"Yes, I will remember that we are Gods," said Leo.
married--and Leo knew it--and when he had finished singing Leo
perfectly straight, for all that. And you, brother?"
unploughed.
Later, years later, always wandering up and down, and making the
foster-mother was very sorry, she hugged her own real baby to her
earth, pointing to the man's heart. He drew himself up, and stood
"Are you afraid?" said Leo, bending over him.
"Why have you come for me _now_?"
"Perhaps that is why," said the Crab, and the grip tightened.
"You said you would not come till I had taken the world by the
shoulders," gasped Leo, falling back.
"What is that to me?" said the Crab.
watching Death till he died.
Hitchcock, his assistant, cantered along the line on a little
switch-tailed Kabuli pony, who, through long practice, could have
"All but," said he, with a smile.
"I shall hate it!" said the young man, and as he went on his eye
followed Findlayson's, and he muttered, "Is n't it good?"
"I think we'll go up the service together," Findlayson said to
half-hundred--fitters and riveters, European, borrowed from the
railway workshops, with perhaps twenty white and half-caste
disappointment, buried his head in his arms and wept; the
wearying of routine musters and clean clothes, had thrown up the
service and gone inland, where men of his calibre were sure of
employment. For his knowledge of tackle and the handling of heavy
"In three months, when the weather is cooler."
"But the Lord Sahib does not call me a jiboon-wallah, Peroo."
"No, Sahib; but he does not come on deck till the work is all
finished. Even the Burra Malum of the _Nerbudda_ said once at
"Bah! Go! I am busy."
Findlayson smiled at the "we."
within.... Yes, I will not take the cushions in the dinghy."
rains, and shivered with fever under the rude thatch roof; the
"All the same, if you carried off his _guru_ he'd leave us like a
Paul's when he was in London."
"He told me that the first time he went into the engine-room of a
bridge being run across her. Who's there?" A shadow darkened the
doorway, and a telegram was put into Hitchcock's hand.
"What is it?" said the senior, and took the form. "_That's_ what
"Curse that hill-fed sewer of a Ramgunga! Findlayson, this is two
"Pontoon, one big pontoon with the overhead crane on it. T'other
From across the river came an almost continuous whistling of
locomotives, backed by the rumble of stone. Hitchcock at the last
For hours the naked men worked, screaming and shouting under the
slap.
"There's no saying. She's filling as fast as she can. Look!"
Findlayson pointed to the planks below his feet, where the sand,
"What orders?" said Hitchcock.
"Oh, I'll be as prudent as you are! 'Night. Heavens, how she's
chains.
And they looked and wondered afresh at the deep water, the racing
up-stream were marked by no more than eddies and spoutings, and
marking the hours, inch by inch and foot by foot, along the
Lockhart's spirit broke in him and he died. He remembered what he
At last the lascar rose and floundered through the mud toward the
Presently he returned, most irreverently driving before him the
well-wishing. Now they are angry. Speak to them!"
"The bridge is mine; I cannot leave it."
entrancing sound upon which he pondered for several hours, as it
"_Accha!_ I am going away. Come thou also."
In his mind Findlayson had already escaped from the boat, and was
stern, the water rushing about its knees.
carefully."
insolence of head and hump, the luminous stag-like eyes, the brow
"Truly," said Peroo thickly, "and no small ones."
"What are they, then? I do not see clearly."
"The Gods. Who else? Look!"
against the thunder as the circle under the tree filled with the
shifting shadows of beasts. There was a Black-buck at the Bull's
deep-jowled.
snarl.
"Kashi is without her Kotwal to-night," shouted the Man with the
"Ye were still when they polluted my waters," the great Crocodile
walls. I had no help save my own strength, and that failed--the
Peroo would have moved, but the opium lay heavy upon him.
"Bah!" he said, spitting. "Here is Sitala herself; Mata--the
small-pox. Has the Sahib a handkerchief to put over his face?"
fire-carriage to make a mock of. The Justice of the Gods on the
bridge-builders!"
The Bull turned the cud in his mouth and answered slowly, "If the
The Buck made no movement as he answered, "How long has this evil
to-morrow?" said the Buck.
"Yea, I know," said the Bull. "Their Gods instructed them in the
A laugh ran round the circle.
chiefest of the Heavenly Ones to-day. Also my staff says----"
knowest also."
"Yea, I know," said the Tigress, with lowered head.
"True. It is true," murmured Hanuman. "To Shiv and to the others,
twelve-armed, and still they call her Mary."
"Small thanks, brother," said the Tigress. "I am that Woman."
"And all for the sake of a little iron bar with the fire-carriage
"And the Heavenly Ones said nothing? Did Gunga and the Mother of
Sorrows out-talk them? Did none speak for my people?"
"I was content to let them toil--well content," said Hanuman.
"What had I to do with Gunga's anger?" said the Bull.
"Thou?" The young God's eyes sparkled.
"Am I not the first of the Gods in their mouths to-day?" returned
mother, for a little--and it is only for a little."
"If it be only for a little----" the slow beast began.
"Of _my_ people--who lie under the leaf-roofs of the village
"Nay, but they are very old ones," the Ape said, laughing.
"And very tender art thou of thy people," said the Tigress.
"But to-morrow they are dead, brother," said Ganesh.
"Peace!" said the Bull, as Hanuman leaned forward again. "And
to-morrow, beloved--what of to-morrow?"
The Gods laughed together softly. "And then, beloved?" they said.
"And to cover that weariness they, my people, will bring to thee,
altars, but so slowly that no man can say how his forgetfulness
Heavenly Ones altogether. They think of the fire-carriage and the
"It is very far away," grunted Bhairon. "Also, it is a lie."
fellows; Ganesh shall have his mahajuns, and Bhairon the
thousand times."
"Up! We are cramped with cold! Has the opium died out? Canst thou
cannot fall."
A fierce sun, that drew out all the smell of the sodden land, had
"We came down far," he said. "It was wonderful that we were not
drowned a hundred times."
but"--Peroo looked at the damp, discoloured shrine under the
peepul--"never man has seen that we saw here."
"Has the Sahib forgotten; or do we black men only see the Gods?"
"What?" said Findlayson over his shoulder.
Peroo went on as if he were talking to himself. "Six--seven--ten
monsoons since, I was watch on the fo'c'sle of the _Rewah_--the
"Look up-stream. The light blinds. Is there smoke yonder?"
accumulated during his minority by the Indian Government. His
"It's great luck," murmured Findlayson, but he was none the less
afraid, wondering what news might be of the bridge.
"All serene! 'Gad, I never expected to see you again, Findlayson.
I sent a message to my dear--
A thousand leagues and more to her--
And lost Atlantis bore to her.
Behind my message hard I came,
And nigh had found a grave for me;
But that I launched of steel and flame
Did war against the wave for me.
Uprose the deep, by gale on gale,
To bid me change my mind again--
He broke his teeth along my rail,
And, roaring, swung behind again.
I stayed the sun at noon to tell
My way across the waste of it;
I read the storm before it fell
And made the better haste of it.
Afar, I hailed the land at night--
The towers I built had heard of me--
And, ere my rocket reached its height,
Had flashed my Love the word of me.
Earth gave her chosen men of strength
(They lived and strove and died for me)
To drive my road a nation's length,
And toss the miles aside for me.
I snatched their toil to serve my needs--
Too slow their fleetest flew for me--
I tired twenty smoking steeds,
And bade them bait a new for me.
I sent the lightnings forth to see
Where hour by hour she waited me.
Among ten million one was she,
And surely all men hated me!
Dawn ran to meet us at my goal--
Ah, day no tongue shall tell again!--
And little folk of little soul
Rose up to buy and sell again!
A Nation spoke to a Nation.
A Queen sent word to a Throne:
"Daughter am I in my mother's house
But mistress in my own.
The gates are mine to open,
As the gates are mine to close,
And I set my house in order,"
"Neither with laughter nor weeping,
Fear or the child's amaze--
Soberly under the White Man's law
My white men go their ways.
Not for the Gentiles' clamour--
Insult or threat of blows--
Bow we the knee to Baal,"
"My speech is clean and single,
I talk of common things--
Words of the wharf and the market-place
And the ware the merchant brings:
Favour to those I favour,
But a stumbling-block to my foes.
Many there be that hate us,"
"I called my chiefs to council
In the din of a troubled year;
For the sake of a sign ye would not see,
And a word ye would not hear.
This is our message and answer;
This is the path we chose:
For we be also a people,"
"Carry the word to my sisters--
I have proven faith in the Heritage
By more than the word of the mouth.
They that are wise may follow
Ere the world's war-trumpet blows,
But I--I am first in the battle,"
_A Nation spoke to a Nation,
A Throne sent word to a Throne:
"Daughter am I in my mother's house,
But mistress in my own.
The gates are mine to open,
As the gates are mine to close,
And I abide by my Mother's House,"
(_Lady Dufferin's Fund for medical Aid to the Women of India_).
How shall she know the worship we would do her?
The walls are high, and she is very far.
How shall the women's message reach unto her
Above the tumult of the packed bazaar?
Free wind of March, against the lattice blowing,
Bear thou our thanks, lest she depart unknowing.
Go forth across the fields we may not roam in,
Go forth beyond the trees that rim the city,
To whatsoe'er fair place she hath her home in,
Who dowered us with wealth of love and pity.
Out of our shadow pass, and seek her singing--
"I have no gifts but Love alone for bringing."
Say that we be a feeble folk who greet her,
But old in grief, and very wise in tears;
Say that we, being desolate, entreat her
That she forget us not in after years;
For we have seen the light, and it were grievous
To dim that dawning if our lady leave us.
By life that ebbed with none to stanch the failing,
By love's sad harvest garnered in the spring,
When Love in ignorance wept unavailing
O'er young buds dead before their blossoming;
By all the gray owl watched, the pale moon viewed,
In past grim years, declare our gratitude!
By hands uplifted to the Gods that heard not,
By gifts that found no favour in their sight,
By faces bent above the babe that stirred not,
By nameless horrors of the stifling night;
By ills foredone, by peace her toils discover,
Bid Earth be good beneath and Heaven above her!
If she have sent her servants in our pain,
If she have fought with Death and dulled his sword;
If she have given back our sick again,
And to the breast the weakling lips restored,
Is it a little thing that she has wrought?
Then Life and Death and Motherhood be naught.
Go forth, oh, wind, our message on thy wings,
And they shall hear thee pass and bid thee speed,
In red-roofed hut, or white-walled home of kings,
Who have been helped by her in their need.
All spring shall give thee fragrance, and the wheat
Shall be a tasselled floor-cloth to thy feet.
Haste, for our hearts are with thee, take no rest,
Loud-voiced ambassador, from sea to sea
Proclaim the blessing, manifold, confest,
Of those in darkness by her hand set free;
Then very softly to her presence move,
And whisper: "Lady, lo, they know and love!"
Take up the White Man's burden--
Send forth the best ye breed--
Go bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives' need;
To wait in heavy harness,
On fluttered folk and wild--
Your new-caught, sullen peoples,
Half-devil and half child.
Take up the White Man's burden--
In patience to abide,
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain,
To seek another's profit,
And work another's gain.
Take up the White Man's burden--
The savage wars of peace--
Fill full the mouth of Famine
And bid the sickness cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch Sloth and heathen Folly
Bring all your hope to naught.
Take up the White Man's burden--
No tawdry rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper--
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread,
Go make them with your living,
And mark them with your dead.
Take up the White Man's burden--
And reap his old reward;
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard--
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah, slowly!) toward the light:--
"Why brought ye us from bondage,
Take up the White Man's burden--
Ye dare not stoop to less--
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To cloak your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent, sullen peoples
Shall weigh your Gods and you.
Take up the White Man's burden--
Have done with childish days--
The lightly proffered laurel
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years,
Cold, edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgment of your peers!