Mittwoch, 14. Oktober 2015

Collected Verse of Rudyard Kipling with illustrations by W. Heath Robinson


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,
And we 've cut away our mast of beaten gold
(Foul weather!)
Oh 'tis hemp and singing pine for to stand against the brine,
But Love he is our master as of old!

The sea has shorn our galleries away,
The salt has soiled our gilding past remede;
Our paint is flaked and blistered by the spray.
Our sides are half a fathom furred in weed
(Foul weather !)
And the doves of Venus fled and the petrels came instead.
But Love he was our master at our need.

 MEN make them fires on the hearth
Each under his own roof- tree,
And the Four Winds that rule the earth
They blow the smokes to me.

Across the high hills and the sea
And all the changeful skies,
The Four Winds blow the smoke to me
Till the tears are in my eyes.

Until the tears are in my eyes
And my heart is wellnigh broke;
For thinking on old memories
That gather in the smoke.

 I remember going crazy. I remember that I knew it
When I heard myself hallooing to the funny folk I saw.
Very full of dreams that desert : but my two legs took me
through it . . .
And I used to watch 'em moving with the toes all black and
But at last the country altered — White Man's country past
Rolling grass and open timber, with a hint of hills behind —
There I found me food and water, and I lay a week
Got my strength and lost my nightmares. Then I entered
on my find.
 We race their babes ashore

 Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners
 Placking at their harps; and they plucked unhandly:
"Our thumbs are rough and tarred,
and the tune is something hard -
May we lift a deepsea chantey such as seamen use at sea?"


and will supply details to guard the Blood River Bridge."
 As out on the bridge she rolls

...Till we feel the far track humming.
And we see her headlight plain,
And we gather and wait her coming—
The wonderful north-bound train....

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 and
burned themselves with the corpse 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.
He drew and struck : the straight blade drank
The life beneath the breast.
" I had looked for the Queen to face the flame,
" But the harlot dies for the Rajpoot dame —
"Sister of mine, pass, free from shame.
"Pass with thy King to rest!"

The black log crashed above the white:
The little flames and lean,
Red as slaughter and blue as steel,
That whistled and fluttered from head to heel,
Leaped up anew, for they found their meal
On the heart of— the Boondi Queen!

 FULL thirty foot she towered from waterline to rail.
It cost a watch to steer her, and a week to shorten sail;
But, spite all modern notions, I've found her first and best—
The only certain packet for the Islands of the Blest.

 He scratched upon that log : " Thus Gods are made,
''And whoso makes them otherwise shall die."
And all the people praised him. . . . Then he died.

Later he pictured an aurochs — later he pictured a bear—
Pictured the sabre-tooth tiger dragging a man to his lair —
Pictured the mountainous mammoth, hairy, abhorrent, alone —
Out of the love that he bore them, scriving them clearly on

N OW Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley
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,
Till he heard as the roar of a rain-fed ford the roar of the
Milky Way:
Till he heard the roar of the Milky Way die down and drone
and cease.
And they came to the Gate within the Wall where Peter
holds the keys.

 Love and Death once ceased their strife
At the Tavern of Man's Life.
Called for wine, and threw — alas ! —
Each his quiver on the grass.

In the heel of the wind-bit pier,
Where the twisted weed was piled.
She came to the life she had missed by an hour,
For she came to a little child.

She laid it into her breast.
And back to her mother she came.
But it would not feed and it would not heed.
Though she gave it her own child's name. 

 "Soldier, soldier come from the wars,
"O then I know it's true I've lost my true love!"
"An' I tell you truth again — when you 've lost the feel o' pain
"You'd best take me for your new love."
True love ! New love !
Best take 'im for a new love.
The dead they cannot rise, an' you 'd better dry your eyes,
An' you 'd best take 'im for your new love.

I sha'n't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
"With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An‘ the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' he plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
It was crawlin' and it stunk,
But of all the drinks I 've drunk,
I 'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

Ford, ford, ford o‘ Kabul river,
Ford o' Kabul river in the dark!
There 's the river low an' fallin', but it ain't no use o'
'Cross the ford o' Kabul river in the dark.


YOU call yourself a man,
For all you used to swear,
An' leave me, as you can.
My certain shame to bear?
I 'ear! You do not care —
You done the worst you know.
I 'ate you, grinnin' there. . .
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

Me that 'ave followed my trade
In the place where the Lightnin's are made,
'Twixt the Rains and the Sun and the Moon;
Me that lay down an' got up
Three years an' the sky for my roof—
That 'ave ridden my 'unger an' thirst
Six thousand raw mile on the hoof,
With the Vaal and the Orange for cup,
An' the Brandwater Basin for dish,—
Oh! it's 'ard to be'ave as they wish,

Keine Kommentare:

Kommentar veröffentlichen