Kipling Stories and Poems Every Child Should Know, Book II

IV
THE MIRACLES

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

V
OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS

1897

(Canadian Preferential Tariff, 1897)

 
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,"
Said our Lady of the Snows.
 
 
"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,"
Said our Lady of the Snows.
 
 
"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,"
Said our Lady of the Snows.
 
 
"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,"
Said our Lady of the Snows.
 
 
"Carry the word to my sisters —
To the Queens of the East and the South
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,"
Said our Lady of the Snows.
 
 
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,"
Said our Lady of the Snows.
 

VI
THE SONG OF THE WOMEN

(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!"
 

VII
THE WHITE MAN'S BURDEN

1899

 
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,
Our loved Egyptian night?"
 
 
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!