The Complete Poetical Works of Rudyard Kipling (570+ Poems in One Edition). Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ speed,

       In reed-roofed hut, or white-walled home of kings,

       Who have been helpen by her in their need.

      All spring shall give thee fragrance, and the wheat

       Shall be a tasselled floorcloth to thy feet.

      Haste, for our hearts are with thee, take no rest!

       Loud-voiced ambassador, from sea to sea

       Proclaim the blessing, manifold, confessed.

       Of those in darkness by her hand set free.

      Then very softly to her presence move,

       And whisper: "Lady, lo, they know and love!"

A Ballad of Jakko Hill

       Table of Contents

      One moment bid the horses wait,

       Since tiffin is not laid till three,

       Below the upward path and straight

       You climbed a year ago with me.

      Love came upon us suddenly

       And loosed—an idle hour to kill—

       A headless, armless armory

       That smote us both on Jakko Hill.

      Ah Heaven! we would wait and wait

       Through Time and to Eternity!

       Ah Heaven! we could conquer Fate

       With more than Godlike constancy

       I cut the date upon a tree—

       Here stand the clumsy figures still:

       "10-7-85, A.D."

       Damp with the mist of Jakko Hill.

      What came of high resolve and great,

       And until Death fidelity!

       Whose horse is waiting at your gate?

       Whose 'rickshaw-wheels ride over me?

       No Saint's, I swear; and—let me see

       Tonight what names your programme fill—

       We drift asunder merrily,

       As drifts the mist on Jakko Hill.

      L'ENVOI.

      Princess, behold our ancient state

       Has clean departed; and we see

       'Twas Idleness we took for Fate

       That bound light bonds on you and me.

      Amen! Here ends the comedy

       Where it began in all good will;

       Since Love and Leave together flee

       As driven mist on Jakko Hill!

The Plea of the Simla Dancers

       Table of Contents

      Too late, alas! the song

       To remedy the wrong;—

       The rooms are taken from us, swept and

       garnished for their fate.

       But these tear-besprinkled pages

       Shall attest to future ages

       That we cried against the crime of it—

       too late, alas! too late!

      "What have we ever done to bear this grudge?"

       Was there no room save only in Benmore

       For docket, duftar, and for office drudge,

       That you usurp our smoothest dancing floor?

       Must babus do their work on polished teak?

       Are ball-rooms fittest for the ink you spill?

       Was there no other cheaper house to seek?

       You might have left them all at Strawberry Hill.

      We never harmed you! Innocent our guise,

       Dainty our shining feet, our voices low;

       And we revolved to divers melodies,

       And we were happy but a year ago.

      Tonight, the moon that watched our lightsome wiles—

       That beamed upon us through the deodars—

       Is wan with gazing on official files,

       And desecrating desks disgust the stars.

      Nay! by the memory of tuneful nights—

       Nay! by the witchery of flying feet—

       Nay! by the glamour of foredone delights—

       By all things merry, musical, and meet—

       By wine that sparkled, and by sparkling eyes—

       By wailing waltz—by reckless galop's strain—

       By dim verandas and by soft replies,

       Give us our ravished ball-room back again!

      Or—hearken to the curse we lay on you!

       The ghosts of waltzes shall perplex your brain,

       And murmurs of past merriment pursue

       Your 'wildered clerks that they indite in vain;

       And when you count your poor Provincial millions,

       The only figures that your pen shall frame

       Shall be the figures of dear, dear cotillions

       Danced out in tumult long before you came.

      Yea! "See Saw" shall upset your estimates,

       "Dream Faces" shall your heavy heads bemuse,

       Because your hand, unheeding, desecrates

       Our temple; fit for higher, worthier use.

       СКАЧАТЬ