Singer and tailor am I--
Doubled the joys that I know--
Proud of my lilt to the sky,
Proud of the house that I sew--
Over and under, so weave I my music--so weave I the house that
Sing to your fledglings again,
Mother, O lift up your head!
Evil that plagued us is slain,
Death in the garden lies dead.
Terror that hid in the roses is impotent--flung on the dung-hill
Who hath delivered us, who?
Tell me his nest and his name.
Rikki, the valiant, the true,
Tikki, with eyeballs of flame,
Rik-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the Hunter with eyeballs of
Give him the Thanks of the Birds,
Bowing with tail-feathers spread!
Praise him in nightingale-words--
Nay, I will praise him instead.
I will sing you the praise of the bottle-tailed Rikki with
eyeballs of red!
written by Rudyard Kipling, published on Sat 10.30.2010 at 22:18
I met my mates in the morning (and oh, but I am old!)
Where roaring on the ledges the summer ground-swell rolled;
written by Rudyard Kipling, published on Thu 10.28.2010 at 06:59
When I left Rome for Lalage's sake,
By the Legions' Road to Rimini,
She vowed her heart was mine to take
written by Rudyard Kipling, published on Tue 10.26.2010 at 03:21
The American Spirit speaks:
"If the Led Striker call it a strike,
Or the papers call it a war,
written by Rudyard Kipling, published on Thu 09.02.2010 at 01:31
Across a world where all men grieve
And grieving strive the more,
The great days range like tides and leave
written by Rudyard Kipling, published on Sat 08.28.2010 at 18:50
Unto whose use the pregnant suns are poised,
With idiot moons and stars retracting stars?