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Rudyard Kipling, Feel free to add replies to this.... |
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Aug 10 03, 15:34
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Mosaic Master
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Works of Rudyard Kipling
A Legend of Truth
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, Returned to her seclusion horrified. There she abode, so conscious of her worth, Not even Pilate's Question called her forth, Nor Galileo, kneeling to deny The Laws that hold our Planet 'neath the sky. Meantime, her kindlier sister, whom men call Fiction, did all her work and more than all, With so much zeal, devotion, tact, and care, That no one noticed Truth was otherwhere.
Then came a War when, bombed and gassed and mined, Truth rose once more, perforce, to meet mankind, And through the dust and glare and wreck of things, Beheld a phantom on unbalanced wings, Reeling and groping, dazed, dishevelled, dumb, But semaphoring direr deeds to come.
Truth hailed and bade her stand; the quavering shade Clung to her knees and babbled, "Sister, aid! I am--I was--thy Deputy, and men Besought me for my useful tongue or pen To gloss their gentle deeds, and I complied, And they, and thy demands, were satisfied. But this--" she pointed o'er the blistered plain, Where men as Gods and devils wrought amain-- "This is beyond me! Take thy work again."
Tablets and pen transferred, she fled afar, And Truth assumed the record of the War... She saw, she heard, she read, she tried to tell Facts beyond precedent and parallel-- Unfit to hint or breathe, much less to write, But happening every minute, day and night. She called for proof. It came. The dossiers grew. She marked them, first, "Return. This can't be true." Then, underneath the cold official word: "This is not really half of what occurred."
She faced herself at last, the story runs, And telegraphed her sister: "Come at once. Facts out of hand. Unable overtake Without your aid. Come back for Truth's own sake! Co-equal rank and powers if you agree. They need us both, but you far more than me!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Child's Garden
Now there is nothing wrong with me Except -- I think it's called T.B. And that is why I have to lay Out in the garden all the day.
Our garden is not very wide And cars go by on either side, And make an angry-hooty noise That rather startles little boys.
But worst of all is when they take Me out in cars that growl and shake, With charabancs so dreadful-near I have to shut my eyes for fear.
But when I'm on my back again, I watch the Croydon aeroplane That flies across to France, and sings Like hitting thick piano-strings.
When I am strong enough to do The things I'm truly wishful to, I'll never use a car or train But always have an aeroplane;
And just go zooming round and round, And frighten Nursey with the sound, And see the angel-side of clouds, And spit on all those motor-crowds!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Kingdom
Now we are come to our Kingdom, And the State is thus and thus; Our legions wait at the Palace gate— Little it profits us. Now we are come to our Kingdom!
Now we are come to our Kingdom, And the Crown is ours to take— With a naked sword at the Council board, And under the throne the snake. Now we are come to our Kingdom !
Now we are come to our Kingdom, And the Realm is ours by right, With shame and fear for our daily cheer, And heaviness at night. Now we are come to our Kingdom !
Now we are come to our Kingdom, But my love's eyelids fall. All that I wrought for, all that I fought for, Delight her nothing at all. My crown is of withered leaves, For she sits in the dust and grieves. Now we are come to our Kingdom !
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mesopotamia
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, Shall they come with years and honour to the grave?
They shall not return to us; the strong men coldly slain In sight of help denied from day to day: But the men who edged their agonies and chid them in their pain, Are they too strong and wise to put away?
Our dead shall not return to us while Day and Night divide-- Never while the bars of sunset hold. But the idle-minded overlings who quibbled while they died, Shall they thrust for high employments as of old?
Shall we only threaten and be angry for an hour: When the storm is ended shall we find How softly but how swiftly they have sidled back to power By the favour and contrivance of their kind?
Even while they soothe us, while they promise large amends, Even while they make a show of fear, Do they call upon their debtors, and take counsel with their friends, To conform and re-establish each career?
Their lives cannot repay us--their death could not undo-- The shame that they have laid upon our race. But the slothfulness that wasted and the arrogance that slew, Shell we leave it unabated in its place?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sestina of the Tramp-Royal
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 For such as cannot use one bed too long, But must get 'ence, the same as I'ave done, An' go observin' matters till they die.
What do it matter where or 'ow we die, So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all -- The different ways that different things are done, An' men an' women lovin' in this world; Takin' our chances as they come along, An' when they ain't, pretendin' they are good?
In cash or credit -- no, it aren't no good; You've to 'ave the 'abit or you'd die, Unless you lived your life but one day long, Nor didn't prophesy nor fret at all, But drew your tucker some'ow from the world, An' never bothered what you might ha' done.
But, Gawd, what things are they I'aven't done? I've turned my 'and to most, an' turned it good, In various situations round the world For 'im that doth not work must surely die; But that's no reason man should labour all 'Is life on one same shift -- life's none so long.
Therefore, from job to job I've moved along. Pay couldn't 'old me when my time was done, For something in my 'ead upset it all, Till I'ad dropped whatever 'twas for good, An', out at sea, be'eld the dock-lights die, An' met my mate -- the wind that tramps the world!
It's like a book, I think, this bloomin, world, Which you can read and care for just so long, But presently you feel that you will die Unless you get the page you're readi'n' done, An' turn another -- likely not so good; But what you're after is to turn'em all.
Gawd bless this world! Whatever she'oth done -- Excep' When awful long -- I've found it good. So write, before I die, "'E liked it all!"
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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the RingsCollaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind. "I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. KanterNominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here! "Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.MM Award Winner
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Sep 4 05, 19:20
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Mosaic Master
Group: Administrator
Posts: 18,892
Joined: 1-August 03
From: Massachusetts
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Real Name: Lori Kanter
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Referred By:Imhotep
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For All We Have and Are For all we have and are, For all our children's fate, Stand up and meet the war. The Hun is at the gate! Our world has passed away In wantonness o'erthrown. There is nothing left to-day But steel and fire and stone.
Though all we knew depart, The old commandments stand: "In courage keep your heart, In strength lift up your hand."
Once more we hear the word That sickened earth of old: "No law except the sword Unsheathed and uncontrolled," Once more it knits mankind, Once more the nations go To meet and break and bind A crazed and driven foe.
Comfort, content, delight -- The ages' slow-bought gain -- They shrivelled in a night, Only ourselves remain To face the naked days In silent fortitude, Through perils and dismays Renewd and re-renewed.
Though all we made depart, The old commandments stand: "In patience keep your heart, In strength lift up your hand."
No easy hopes or lies Shall bring us to our goal, But iron sacrifice Of body, will, and soul. There is but one task for all -- For each one life to give. Who stands if freedom fall? Who dies if England live? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Helen All Alone There was darkness under Heaven For an hour's space-- Darkness that we knew was given Us for special grace. Sun and noon and stars were hid, God had left His Throne, When Helen came to me, she did, Helen all alone!
Side by side (because our fate Damned us ere our birth) We stole out of Limbo Gate Looking for the Earth. Hand in pulling hand amid Fear no dreams have known, Helen ran with me, she did, Helen all alone!
When the Horror passing speech Hunted us along, Each laid hold on each, and each Found the other strong. In the teeth of Things forbid And Reason overthrown, Helen stood by me, she did, Helen all alone!
When, at last, we heard those Fires Dull and die away, When, at last, our linked desires Dragged us up to day; When, at last, our souls were rid Of what that Night had shown, Helen passed from me, she did, Helen all alone!
Let her go and find a mate, As I will find a bride, Knowing naught of Limbo Gate Or Who are penned inside. There is knowledge God forbid More than one should own. So Helen went from me, she did, Oh, my soul, be glad she did! Helen all alone! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Code of Morals Now Jones had left his new-wed bride to keep his house in order, And hied away to the Hurrum Hills above the Afghan border, To sit on a rock with a heliograph; but ere he left he taught His wife the working of the Code that sets the miles at naught.
And Love had made him very sage, as Nature made her fair; So Cupid and Apollo linked , per heliograph, the pair. At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise -- At e'en, the dying sunset bore her busband's homilies.
He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet clad and gold, As much as 'gainst the blandishments paternal of the old; But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the ditty hangs) That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-General Bangs.
'Twas General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, who tittupped on the way, When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously at play. They thought of Border risings, and of stations sacked and burnt -- So stopped to take the message down -- and this is whay they learnt --
"Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot" twice. The General swore. "Was ever General Officer addressed as 'dear' before? "'My Love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gadzooks! 'My darling popsy-wop!' "Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that mountaintop?"
The artless Aide-de-camp was mute; the gilded Staff were still, As, dumb with pent-up mirth, they booked that message from the hill; For clear as summer lightning-flare, the husband's warning ran: -- "Don't dance or ride with General Bangs -- a most immoral man."
[At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise -- But, howsoever Love be blind, the world at large hath eyes.] With damnatory dot and dash he heliographed his wife Some interesting details of the General's private life.
The artless Aide-de-camp was mute, the shining Staff were still, And red and ever redder grew the General's shaven gill. And this is what he said at last (his feelings matter not): -- "I think we've tapped a private line. Hi! Threes about there! Trot!"
All honour unto Bangs, for ne'er did Jones thereafter know By word or act official who read off that helio. But the tale is on the Frontier, and from Michni to Mooltan They know the worthy General as "that most immoral man."
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"It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." ~ J.R.R Tolkien, The Lord of the RingsCollaboration feeds innovation. In the spirit of workshopping, please revisit those threads you've critiqued to see if the author has incorporated your ideas, or requests further feedback from you. In addition, reciprocate with those who've responded to you in kind. "I believe it is the act of remembrance, long after our bones have turned to dust, to be the true essence of an afterlife." ~ Lorraine M. KanterNominate a poem for the InterBoard Poetry Competition by taking into careful consideration those poems you feel would best represent Mosaic Musings. For details, click into the IBPC nomination forum. Did that poem just captivate you? Nominate it for the Faery award today! If perfection of form allured your muse, propose the Crown Jewels award. For more information, click here! "Worry looks around, Sorry looks back, Faith looks up." ~ Early detection can save your life.MM Award Winner
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Guest_Jox_*
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Sep 4 05, 20:13
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Guest
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Hi, Not a work by Kipling - just a quirk or three...
He was named after a lake not far from where I was born and brought-up... Rudyard Lake. His parents conducted their courtship around there (near Rudyard village, Staffordshire, England) and loved it so much that they named their son after it.
Kipling's poem "IF" was voted Britain's favourite poem in a BBC poll of a couple of years ago.
Kipling's most famous works are not his poems (maybe excepting "IF") but his "Just So" and "Jungle Book" stories - the latter made into a famous film by Walt Disney.
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Guest_Jox_*
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Sep 4 05, 20:15
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Guest
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And here is Kipling's most famous poem and Britain's "official" favourite (probably because it used to be displayed in all schools as a lesson to pupils)...
IF by Rudyard Kipling
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 But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!
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Aug 7 07, 09:41
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Group: Platinum Member
Posts: 1,802
Joined: 24-April 04
From: Connecticut
Member No.: 58
Real Name: Ron Jones
Writer of: Poetry
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Dear All, If only man could realize and fully appreciate his most wonderful heritage! If poets such as Rudyard Kipling had never lived to bestow on us the brilliance of his thoughts and his expression... If before we chose to enter the world of poetry as a hobby we did our homework and learned from the masters. If each of us took the time to choose 10 most favorite poems from our vast inheritance we would learm better the mein of the true poet before even beginning to practice the art. OK- here's my farorite 10, not in order: If/ Kipling The Day is Done/ Longfellow Psalm of Life/ Longfellow She was a Phantom of Delight/ Wordsworth The Ancient Mariner/ Coleridge La Allegro /Milton Barbara Frietchie/ Whittier A Visit from St. Nicholas/ Moore The Children's Hour/ Longfellow The Cremation of Sam McGee/ Service Little Boy Blue/ Field She Walks in Beauty/ Byron In Flanders Field/ McCrea I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud/ Wordsworth The Raven/ Poe (I'll be back with more of my 10 favorites)
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Guest_ohsteve_*
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Sep 21 08, 13:05
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Guest
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This is one of the two Kipling poems I really love...am trying to remember the name of the other one...
Gunga Din You may talk o' gin and beer When you're quartered safe out 'ere, An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it; But when it comes to slaughter You will do your work on water, An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it. Now in Injia's sunny clime, Where I used to spend my time A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen, Of all them blackfaced crew The finest man I knew Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din. He was "Din! Din! Din! You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din! Hi! Slippy hitherao! Water, get it! Panee lao! [Bring water swiftly.] You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din." The uniform 'e wore Was nothin' much before, An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind, For a piece o' twisty rag An' a goatskin water-bag Was all the field-equipment 'e could find. When the sweatin' troop-train lay In a sidin' through the day, Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl, We shouted "Harry By!" Till our throats were bricky-dry, Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all. It was "Din! Din! Din! You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been? You put some juldee in it Or I'll marrow you this minute If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!" 'E would dot an' carry one Till the longest day was done; An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear. If we charged or broke or cut, You could bet your bloomin' nut, 'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear. With 'is mussick on 'is back, 'E would skip with our attack, An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire", An' for all 'is dirty 'ide 'E was white, clear white, inside When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire! It was "Din! Din! Din!" With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green. When the cartridges ran out, You could hear the front-ranks shout, "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!" I shan'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. It was "Din! Din! Din! 'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen; 'E's chawin' up the ground, An' 'e's kickin' all around: For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!" 'E carried me away To where a dooli lay, An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean. 'E put me safe inside, An' just before 'e died, "I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din. So I'll meet 'im later on At the place where 'e is gone -- Where it's always double drill and no canteen. 'E'll be squattin' on the coals Givin' drink to poor damned souls, An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din! Yes, Din! Din! Din! You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din! Though I've belted you and flayed you, By the livin' Gawd that made you, You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!
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