Uniform with this -volume, by Rudyara 
 Kipling: Barrack-Room Ballads.
 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES 
 
 AND OTHER VERSES j* * 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING 
 
 NEW YORK : M. F. MANSFIELD 
 22 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET
 
 Copyright, 
 
 1898, 
 
 M. F. MANSFIELD & Co.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 A BALLAD OF BURIAL 65 
 
 A CODE OF MORALS 12 
 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN OFFICE 19 
 
 ARMY HEADQUARTERS 16 
 
 DELILAH 28 
 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES 3 
 
 GENERAL SUMMARY 5 
 
 IN SPRINGTIME 79 
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE 54 
 
 MUNICIPAL 44 
 
 MY RIVAL 59 
 
 PAGETT, M.P. 68 
 
 PINK DOMINOES 37 
 
 POSSIBILITIES 85 
 
 PUBLIC WASTE 25 
 STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN INDIAN INK 10 
 
 THE BETHROTHED 88 
 
 THE LAST DEPARTMENT 48 
 
 THE LOVERS' LITANY 62 
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE 40 
 
 THE MARE'S NEST 76 
 
 THE OVERLAND MAIL 81 
 
 THE POST THAT FITTED 7 
 
 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL'VIN 72 
 
 THE STORY OF URIAH 23 
 
 To THE UNKNOWN GODDESS 51 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED 32
 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES.
 
 DEPARTMENTAL DITTIES. 
 
 I HAVE eaten your bread and salt, 
 I have drunk your water and wine, 
 The deaths ye died I have watched beside, 
 And the lives that ye led were mine. 
 
 Was there aught that I did not share 
 
 In vigil or toil or ease, 
 One joy or woe that I did not know, 
 
 Dear hearts across the seas ? 
 
 I have written the tale of our life 
 For a sheltered people's mirth, 
 
 In jesting guise but ye are wise, 
 And ye know what the jest is worth.
 
 GENERAL SUMMARY. 
 
 WE are very slightly changed 
 From the semi-apes who ranged 
 India's prehistoric clay ; 
 Whoso drew the longest bow, 
 Ran his brother down, you know, 
 As we run men down to-day. 
 
 " Dowb," the first of all his race, 
 Met the Mammoth face to face 
 
 On the lake or in the cave, 
 Stole the steadiest canoe, 
 Ate the quarry others slew, 
 
 Died and took the finest grave. 
 
 When they scratched the reindeer-bone, 
 Some one made the sketch his own, 
 
 Filched it from the artist then, 
 Even in those early days, 
 Won a simple Viceroy's praise 
 
 Through the toil of other men. 
 5
 
 GENERAL SUMMARY. 
 
 Ere they hewed the Sphinx's visage 
 Favoritism governed kissage, 
 Even as it does in this age. 
 
 Who shall doubt the secret hid 
 Under Cheops' pyramid 
 Was that the contractor did 
 
 Cheops out of several millions ? 
 Or that Joseph's sudden rise 
 To Comptroller of Supplies 
 Was a fraud of monstrous size 
 
 On King Pharaoh's swart Civilians ? 
 
 Thus, the artless songs I sing 
 Do not deal with anything 
 
 New or never said before. 
 'As it was in the beginning, 
 Is to-day official sinning, 
 And shall be for evermore.
 
 THE POST THA T FITTED. 
 
 THOUGH tangled and twisted the course of true love, 
 
 This ditty explains 
 No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve 
 
 If the Lover has brains. 
 
 F7 RE the steamer bore him Eastward, 
 
 i ' Sleary was engaged to marry 
 
 An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he 
 
 called " my little Carrie." 
 Sleary's pay was very modest ; Sleary was 
 
 the other way. 
 Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight 
 
 paltry dibs a day? 
 
 Long he pondered o'er the question in 
 
 his scantly furnished quarters 
 Then proposed to Minnie Boffkin, eldest 
 
 of Judge Boffkin's daughters. 
 Certainly an impecunious Subaltern was 
 
 not a catch, 
 But the Boffkins knew that Minnie 
 
 mightn't make another match. 
 7
 
 THE POST THA T FITTED. 
 
 So they recognized the business, and, to 
 
 feed and clothe the bride, 
 Got him made a Something Something 
 
 somewhere on the Bombay side. 
 Anyhow, the billet carried pay enough 
 
 for him to marry 
 As the artless Sleary put it: " Just the 
 
 thing for me and Carrie." 
 
 Did he, therefore, jilt Miss Boffkin 
 impulse of a baser mind? 
 
 No ! He started epileptic fits of an appal- 
 ling kind. 
 
 (Of his modus operandi only this much I 
 could gather: 
 
 " Pears' shaving sticks will give you little 
 taste and lots of lather.") 
 
 Frequently in public places his affliction 
 
 used to smite 
 Sleary with distressing vigor always in 
 
 the Boffkins' sight.
 
 THE POST THAT FITTED. 
 
 Ere a week was over Minnie weepingly 
 returned his ring, 
 
 Told him his " unhappy weakness" stop- 
 ped all thought of marrying. 
 
 Sleary bore the information with a chas- 
 tened holy joy, 
 
 Epileptic fits don't matter in Political 
 employ, 
 
 Wired three short words to Carrie took 
 his ticket, packed his kit 
 
 Bade farewell to Minnie Boffkin in one 
 last, long, lingering fit. 
 
 Four weeks later, Carrie Sleary read 
 
 and laughed until she wept 
 Mrs. Boffkins" warning letter on the 
 
 "wretched epilept." 
 Year by year, in pious patience, vengeful 
 
 Mrs. Boffkin sits 
 Waiting for the Sleary babies to develop 
 
 Sleary's fits. 
 
 9
 
 STUDY OF AN ELEVATION, IN 
 INDIAN INK. 
 
 THIS ditty is a string of lies. 
 
 But how the deuce did Gubbins rise ? 
 
 r)OTIPHAR GUBBINS, C. E., 
 
 Stands at the top of the tree; 
 And I muse in my bed on the reasons 
 that led 
 
 To the hoisting of Potiphar G. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is seven years junior to Me; 
 Each bridge that he makes he either 
 buckles or breaks, 
 
 And his work is as rough as he. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is coarse as a chimpanzee ; 
 And I can't understand why you gave 
 him your hand, 
 
 Lovely Mehitabel Lee.
 
 INDIAN INK. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 
 Is dear to the Powers that Be ; 
 
 For They bow and They smile in an affa- 
 ble style 
 
 Which is seldom accorded to Me. 
 
 Potiphar Gubbins, C. E., 
 Is certain as certain can be 
 Of a highly paid post which is claimed 
 by a host 
 
 Of seniors including Me. 
 
 Careless and lazy is he, 
 Greatly inferior to Me. 
 What is the spell that you manage so well, 
 Commonplace Potiphar G. ? 
 
 Lovely Mehitabel Lee, 
 Let me inquire of thee, 
 Should I have riz to what Potiphar is, 
 Hadst thou been mated to Me ? 
 ii
 
 A CODE OF MORALS. 
 
 LEST you should think this story true, 
 I merely mention I 
 Evolved it lately. 'Tis a most 
 Unmitigated misstatement. 
 
 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 wording 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 helio- 
 graph, the pair. 
 
 At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he 
 flashed her counsel wise 
 
 At e'en, the dying sunset bore her hus- 
 band's homilies. 
 
 12
 
 A CODE OF MORALS. 
 
 He warned her 'gainst seductive youths 
 in scarlet clad and gold, 
 
 As much as 'gainst the blandishments pa- 
 ternal 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, 
 that tittupped on the way, 
 
 When they beheld a heliograph tempes- 
 tuously at play; 
 
 They thought of Border risings, and of 
 stations sacked and burnt 
 
 So stopped to take the message down 
 and this is what they learnt : 
 
 " Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash 
 dot " twice. The General swore. 
 
 "Was ever General Officer addressed as 
 ' dear ' before ? 
 13
 
 A CODE OF MORALS. 
 
 'My Love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gad- 
 
 zooks! ' My darling popsy-wop! ' 
 Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on 
 
 that mountain top ? " 
 
 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's 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 helio- 
 
 graphed his wife 
 Some interesting v details of the General's 
 
 private life.
 
 A CODE OF MORALS. 
 
 The artless Aide-de-camp\ was mute; the 
 shining Staff were still, 
 
 And red and ever redder grew the Gen- 
 eral's shaven gill. 
 
 And this is what he said at last (his feel- 
 ings matter not) : 
 
 " I think we've tapped a private line. 
 Hi ! Threes about there ! Trot ! " 
 
 All honor 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 Moolto/z 
 They knew the worthy General as " that 
 
 most immoral man."
 
 ARM Y HEADQ UAR TERS. 
 
 OLD is the song that I sing 
 
 Old as my unpaid bills 
 Old as the chicken that kitmutgars bring 
 
 Men at dak- bungalows old as the Hills. 
 
 A HASUERUS JENKINS of the 
 I\ "Operatic Own" 
 Was dowered with a tenor voice of super- 
 
 Santley tone. 
 His views on equitation were, perhaps, a 
 
 trifle queer; 
 He had no seat worth mentioning, but 
 
 oh! he had an ear. 
 
 He clubbed his wretched company a 
 
 dozen times a day, 
 He used to quit his charger in a parabolic 
 
 way, 
 His method of saluting was the joy of all 
 
 beholders, 
 But Ahasuerus Jenkins had a head upon 
 
 his shoulders. 
 
 16
 
 ARM Y HEADQ UAR TERS. 
 
 He took two months to Simla when the 
 
 year was at the spring, 
 And underneath the deodars eternally 
 
 did sing. 
 He warbled like a bulbul, but particularly 
 
 at 
 Cornelia Agrippina, who was musical and 
 
 fat. 
 
 She controlled a humble husband, who in 
 turn controlled a Dept., 
 
 Where Cornelia Agrippina's human sing- 
 ing birds were kept 
 
 From April to October on a plump retain- 
 ing fee, 
 
 Supplied, of course, per mensem, by the 
 Indian Treasury. 
 
 Cornelia used to sing with him, and Jen- 
 kins used to play; 
 
 He praised unblushingly her notes, for he 
 was false as they: 
 17
 
 ARM Y HEADQUAR TERS. 
 
 So when the winds of April turned the 
 
 budding roses brown, 
 Cornelia told her husband: "Tom, you 
 
 mustn't send him down." 
 
 They haled him from his regiment, which 
 
 didn't much regret him; 
 They found for him an office stool, and 
 
 on that stool they set him, 
 To play with maps and catalogues three 
 
 idle hours a day, 
 And draw his plump retaining fee which 
 
 means his double pay. 
 
 Now, ever after dinner, when the coffee 
 cups are brought, 
 
 Ahasuerus waileth o'er the grand piano- 
 forte ; 
 
 And, thanks to fair Cornelia, his fame 
 hath waxen great, 
 
 And Ahasuerus Jenkins is a power in the 
 State. 
 
 18
 
 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN 
 OFFICE. 
 
 THIS is the reason why Rustum Beg, 
 
 Rajah of Kolazai, 
 Drinketh the "simpkin" and brandy peg, 
 
 Maketh the money to fly, 
 Vexeth a Government tender and kind, 
 Also but this is a detail blind. 
 
 RUSTUM BEG of Kolazai slightly 
 backward native state 
 Lusted for a C. S. I., so began to sani- 
 tate. 
 Built a Jail and Hospital nearly built a 
 
 City drain 
 
 Till his faithful subjects all thought their 
 ruler was insane. 
 
 Strange departures made he then yea, 
 Departments stranger still, 
 
 Half a dozen Englishmen helped the 
 Rajah with a will, 
 
 Talked of noble aims and high, hinted of 
 a future fine 
 
 19
 
 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN" 
 OFFICE. 
 
 For the State of Kolazai, on a strictly 
 Western line. 
 
 Rajah Rustum held his peace; lowered 
 
 octroi dues a half; 
 Organized a State Police; purified the 
 
 Civil Staff; 
 Settled cess and tax afresh in a very 
 
 liberal way; 
 Cut temptations of the flesh also cut the 
 
 Bukhshi's pay; 
 
 Roused his Secretariat to a fine Mahratta 
 
 fury, 
 By a Hookum hinting at supervision of 
 
 dasturi; 
 Turned the State of Kolazai very nearly 
 
 upside down; 
 When the end of May was nigh, waited 
 
 his achievement crown.
 
 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN 
 OFFICE. 
 
 Then the Birthday Honors came. Sad to 
 
 state and sad to see, 
 Stood against the Rajah's name nothing 
 
 more than C. I. E.f 
 
 Things were lively for a week in the State 
 
 of Kolazai. 
 Even now the people speak of that time 
 
 regretfully. 
 
 How he disendowed the Jail stopped at 
 
 once the City drain; 
 Turned to beauty fair and frail got his 
 
 senses back again ; 
 Doubled taxes, cesses, all; cleared away 
 
 each new-built thana; 
 Turned the two-lakh Hospital into a 
 
 superb Zenana; 
 
 Heaped upon the Bukhshi Sahib wealth 
 and honors manifold ;
 
 A LEGEND OF THE FOREIGN 
 OFFICE. 
 
 Clad himself in Eastern garb squeezed 
 his people as of old. 
 
 Happy, happy Kolazai! Never more will 
 Rustum Beg 
 
 Play to catch the Viceroy's eye. He pre- 
 fers the "simpkin" peg.
 
 THE STORY OF URIAH. 
 
 "Now there were two men in one city; the one 
 rich and the other poor." 
 
 JACK BARRETT went to Quetta 
 Because they told him to. 
 He left his wife at Simla 
 
 On three-fourths his monthly screw: 
 Jack Barrett died at Quetta 
 
 Ere the next month's pay he drew. 
 
 Jack Barrett went to Quetta. 
 
 He didn't understand 
 The reason of his transfer 
 
 From the pleasant mountain-land: 
 The season was September, 
 
 And it killed him out of hand. 
 
 Jack Barrett went to Quetta, 
 And there gave up the ghost, 
 
 Attempting two men's duty 
 In that very healthy post; 
 
 And Mrs. Barrett mourned for him 
 Five lively months at most. 
 23
 
 THE STORY OF URIAH. 
 Jack Barrett's bones at Quetta 
 
 Enjoy profound repose; 
 But I shouldn't be astonished 
 
 If now his spirit knows 
 The reason of his transfer 
 
 From the Himalayan snows. 
 
 And, when the Last Great Bugle Call 
 
 Adown the Hurnai throbs, 
 When the last grim joke is entered 
 
 In the big black Book of Jobs, 
 And Quetta graveyards give again 
 
 Their victims to the air, 
 I shouldn't like to be the man 
 
 Who sent Jack Barrett there. 
 
 24
 
 PUBLIC WASTE. 
 
 WALPOLE talks of " a man and his price." 
 List to a ditty queer 
 
 The sale of a Deputy-Acting-Vice- 
 Resident-Engineer, 
 
 Bought like a bullock, hoof and hide, 
 
 By the Little Tin Gods on the Mountain Side. 
 
 BY the Laws of the Family Circle 'tis 
 written in letters of brass 
 That only a Colonel from Chatham can 
 
 manage the Railways of State, 
 Because of the gold on his breeks, and the 
 
 subjects wherein he must pass; 
 Because in all matters that deal not with 
 Railways his knowledge is great. 
 
 Now Exeter Battleby Tring had labored 
 
 from boyhood to eld 
 On the Lines of the East and the West, 
 
 and eke of the North and South; 
 Many Lines had he built and surveyed 
 
 important the posts which he held ; 
 And the Lords of the Iron Horse were 
 
 dumb when he opened his mouth. 
 25
 
 PUBLIC WASTE. 
 
 Black as the raven his garb, and his her- 
 esies jettier still 
 
 Hinting that Railways required lifetimes 
 of study and knowledge ; 
 
 Never clanked sword by his side Vauban 
 he knew not, nor drill 
 
 Nor was his name on the list of the men who 
 had passed through the "College." 
 
 Wherefore the Little Tin Gods harried 
 their little tin souls, 
 
 Seeing he came not from Chatham, jing- 
 led no spurs at his heels, 
 
 Knowing that, nevertheless, was he first 
 on the Government rolls 
 
 For the billet of "Railway Instructor to 
 Little Tin Gods on Wheels." 
 
 Letters not seldom they wrote him, "hav- 
 ing the honor to state," 
 
 It would be better for all men if he were 
 laid on the shelf: 
 26
 
 PUBLIC WASTE. 
 
 Much would accrue to his bank book, and 
 
 he consented to wait 
 Until the Little Tin Gods built him a 
 
 berth for himself. 
 
 "Special, well paid, and exempt from the 
 
 Law of the Fifty and Five, 
 Even to Ninety and Nine" these were 
 
 the terms of the pact: 
 Thus did the Little Tin Gods (long may 
 
 Their Highnesses thrive !) 
 Silence his mouth with rupees, keeping 
 
 their Circle intact; 
 
 Appointing a Colonel from Chatham who 
 
 managed the Bhamo State Line, 
 (The which was one mile and one furlong 
 
 a guaranteed twenty-inch gauge). 
 So Exeter Battleby Tring consented his 
 
 claims to resign, 
 And died, on four thousand a month, in 
 
 the ninetieth year of his age. 
 27
 
 DELILAH. 
 
 WE have another Viceroy now, those days are dead 
 
 and done, 
 Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses 
 
 Gunne. 
 
 DELILAH ABERYSWITH was a 
 lady not too young 
 With a perfect taste in dresses, and a 
 
 badly bitted tongue, 
 With a thirst for information, and a 
 
 greater thirst for praise, 
 And a little house in Simla, in the Pre- 
 historic Days. 
 
 By reason of her marriage to a gentleman 
 
 in power, 
 Delilah was acquainted with the gossip of 
 
 the hour; 
 And many little secrets, of a half-official 
 
 kind, 
 Were whispered to Delilah, and she bore 
 
 them all in mind. 
 28
 
 DELILAH. 
 
 She patronized extensively a man, Ulysses 
 
 Gunne, 
 Whose mode of earning money was a low 
 
 and shameful one. 
 He wrote for divers papers, which, as 
 
 everybody knows, 
 Is worse than serving in a shop or scaring 
 
 off the crows. 
 
 He praised her "queenly beauty " first; 
 
 and, later on, he hinted 
 At the "vastnessof her intellect" with 
 
 compliments unstinted. 
 He went with her a-riding, and his love 
 
 for her was such 
 That he lent her all his horses, and she 
 
 galled them very much. 
 
 One day, THEY brewed a secret of a fine 
 
 financial sort; 
 It related to Appointments, to a Man and 
 
 a Report. 
 
 29
 
 DELILAH. 
 
 'Twas almost worth the keeping (only 
 
 seven people knew it), 
 And Gunne rose up to seek the truth and 
 
 patiently ensue it. 
 
 It was a Viceroy's Secret, but perhaps 
 
 the wine was red 
 Perhaps an aged Councillor had lost his 
 
 aged head 
 Perhaps Delilah's eyes were bright 
 
 Delilah's whispers sweet 
 The Aged Member told her what 'twere 
 
 treason to repeat. 
 
 Ulysses went a-riding, and they talked of 
 
 love and flowers; 
 Ulysses went a-calling, and he called for 
 
 several hours; 
 Ulysses went a-waltzing, and Delilah 
 
 helped him dance 
 Ulysses let the waltzes go, and waited for 
 
 his chance. 
 
 30
 
 DELILAH. 
 
 The summer sun was setting, and the 
 
 summer air was still, 
 The couple went a-walking in the shade 
 
 of Summer Hill, 
 The wasteful sunset faded out in turkis- 
 
 green and gold, 
 Ulysses pleaded softly and . . . that bad 
 
 Delilah told ! 
 
 Next morn a startled Empire learnt the 
 all-important news; 
 
 Next week the Aged Councillor was shak- 
 ing in his shoes ; 
 
 Next month I met Delilah, and she did 
 not show the least 
 
 Hesitation in affirming that Ulysses was a 
 "beast." 
 
 We have another Viceroy now, those days 
 
 are dead and done, 
 Of Delilah Aberyswith and most mean 
 
 Ulysses Gunne! 
 31
 
 WHAT HAPPENED. 
 
 HURREE CHUNDER MOOKER- 
 JEE, pride of Bow Bazar, 
 Owner of a native press, " Barrishter-at- 
 
 Lar," 
 Waited on the Government with a claim 
 
 to wear 
 
 Sabres by the bucketful, rifles by the 
 pair. 
 
 Then the Indian Government winked a 
 
 wicked wink, 
 Said to Chunder Mookerjee: " Stick to 
 
 pen and ink, 
 They are safer implements; but, if you 
 
 insist, 
 We will let you carry arms wheresoe'er 
 
 you list." 
 
 Hurree Chunder Mookerjee sought the 
 gunsmith and 
 
 32
 
 WHA T HAPPENED. 
 
 Bought the tuber of Lancaster, Ballard, 
 
 Dean and Bland, 
 Bought a shiny bowie-knife, bought a 
 
 town-made sword, 
 Jingled like a carriage horse when he 
 
 went abroad. 
 
 But the Indian Government, always keen 
 
 to please, 
 Also gave permission to horrid men like 
 
 these 
 Yar Mahommed Yusufzai, down to kill or 
 
 steal, 
 Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer, Tantia the 
 
 Bhil. 
 
 Killar Khan the Marri chief, Jowar Singh 
 
 the Sikh, 
 Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat, Abdul Huq 
 
 Rafiq 
 
 He was a Wahabi; last, little Boh 
 Hla-oo 
 
 33
 
 WHA T HAPPENED. 
 Took advantage of the act took a Snider 
 too. 
 
 They were unenlightened men, Ballard 
 knew them not, 
 
 They procured their swords and guns 
 chiefly on the spot, 
 
 And the lore of centuries, plus a hundred 
 fights, 
 
 Made them slow to disregard one an- 
 other's rights. 
 
 With a unanimity dear to patriot hearts 
 All those hairy gentlemen out of foreign 
 
 parts 
 Said: " The good old days are back 
 
 let us go to war! " 
 Swaggered down the Grand Trunk Road, 
 
 into Bow Bazar. 
 
 Nubbee Baksh Punjabi Jat found a hide- 
 bound flail, 
 
 34
 
 WHAT HAPPENED. 
 Chimbu Singh from Bikaneer oiled his 
 
 Tonk jezail, 
 Yar Mahommed Yusufzai spat and grinned 
 
 with glee 
 As he ground the butcher-knife of the 
 
 Khyberee. 
 
 Jowar Singh the Sikh procured sabre, 
 
 quoit, and mace, 
 Abdul Huq, Wahabi, took the dagger 
 
 from its place, 
 While amid the jungle-grass danced and 
 
 grinned and jabbered 
 Little Boh Hla-oo and cleared the dah- 
 
 blade from the scabbard. 
 
 What became of Mookerjee ? Soothly, 
 
 who can say ? 
 Yar Mahommed only grins in a nasty 
 
 way, 
 Jowar Singh is reticent, Chimbu Singh is 
 
 mute, 
 
 35
 
 WHA T HAPPENED. 
 
 But the belts of them all simply bulge 
 with loot. 
 
 What became of Ballard's guns ? Afghans 
 black and grubby 
 
 Sell them for their silver weight to the 
 men of Pubbi; 
 
 And the shiny bowie-knife and the town- 
 made sword are 
 
 Hanging in a Marri camp just across the 
 Border. 
 
 What became of Mookerjee ? Ask Ma- 
 
 hommed Yar 
 Prodding Siva's sacred bull down the 
 
 Bow Bazar. 
 Speak to placid Nubbee Baksh question 
 
 land and sea 
 Ask the Indian Congress men only don't 
 
 ask me!
 
 PINK DOMINOES. 
 
 "THEY are fools who kiss and tell." 
 Wisely has the poet sung. 
 Man may hold all sorts of posts 
 If he'll only hold his tongue. 
 
 T ENNY and Me were engaged, you 
 <J see, 
 
 On the eve of the Fancy Ball ; 
 So a kiss or two was nothing to you 
 
 Or any one else at all. 
 
 Jenny would go in a domino 
 
 Pretty and pink but warm ; 
 While I attended, clad in a splendid 
 
 Austrian uniform. 
 
 Now we had arranged, through notes ex- 
 changed 
 
 Early that afternoon, 
 At Number Four to waltz no more, 
 
 But to sit in the dusk and spoon. 
 
 (I wish you to see that Jenny and Me 
 
 Had barely exchanged our troth ; 
 37
 
 PINK DOMINOES. 
 
 So a kiss or two was strictly due 
 By, from, and between us both.) 
 
 When Three was over, an eager lover, 
 
 I fled to the gloom outside; 
 And a Domino came out also 
 
 Whom I took for my future bride. 
 
 That is to say, in a casual way, 
 I slipped my arm around her; 
 
 With a kiss or two (which is nothing to 
 
 you), 
 And ready to kiss I found her. 
 
 She turned her head and the name she 
 
 said 
 
 Was certainly not my own ; 
 But ere I could speak, with a smothered 
 
 shriek 
 She fled and left me alone. 
 
 Then Jenny came, and I saw with shame 
 She'd doffed her domino; 
 
 38
 
 PINK DOMINOES. 
 And I had embraced an alien waist 
 But I did not tell her so. 
 
 Next morn I knew that there were two 
 
 Dominoes pink, and one 
 Had cloaked the spouse of Sir Julian 
 Vouse, 
 
 Our big political gun. 
 
 Sir J. was old, and her hair was gold, 
 And her eye was a blue cerulean ; 
 
 And the name she said when she turned 
 
 her head 
 Was not in the least like "Julian." 
 
 Now wasn't it nice, when want of pice 
 
 Forbade us twain to marry, 
 That old Sir J., in the kindest way, 
 
 Made me his Secretarry ? 
 
 39
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 
 
 SHUN shun the Bowl ! That fatal , facile drink 
 Has ruined many geese who dipped their quills 
 m't: 
 
 Bribe, murder, marry, but steer clear of Ink 
 Save when you write receipts for paid-up bills in't. 
 
 There may be silver in the " blue- black " all 
 
 I know of is the iron and the gall. 
 
 BOANERGES BLITZEN, servant of 
 the Queen, 
 
 Is a dismal failure is a Might-have- 
 been. 
 
 In a luckless moment he discovered men 
 Rise to high position through a ready 
 pen. 
 
 Boanerges Blitzen argued, therefore: "I 
 With the selfsame weapon can attain as 
 
 high." 
 Only he did not possess, when he made 
 
 the trial, 
 Wicked wit of C-lv-n, irony of L 1. 
 
 (Men who spar with Government, need 
 to back their blows, 
 40
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE.. 
 Something more than ordinary journalis- 
 tic prose.) 
 
 Never young Civilian's prospects were so- 
 bright, 
 
 Till an Indian paper found that he could 
 write : 
 
 Never young Civilian's prospects were so 
 dark, 
 
 When the wretched Blitzen wrote to 
 make his mark. 
 
 Certainly he scored it, bold and black 
 and firm, 
 
 In that Indian paper made his seniors- 
 squirm, 
 
 Quoted office scandals, wrote the tact- 
 less truth 
 
 Was there ever known a more misguided 
 youth ? 
 
 When the rag he wrote for, praised his 
 plucky game, 
 
 41
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 
 Boanerges Blitzen felt that this was 
 
 Fame: 
 When the men he wrote of, shook their 
 
 heads and swore, 
 Boanerges Blitzen only wrote the more. 
 
 Posed as Young Ithuriel, resolute and 
 
 grim, 
 Till he found promotion didn't come to 
 
 him; 
 Till he found that reprimands weekly 
 
 were his lot, 
 And his many Districts curiously hot. 
 
 Till he found his furlough strangely hard 
 to win, 
 
 Boanerges Blitzen didn't care a pin : 
 
 Then it seemed to dawn on him some- 
 thing wasn't right 
 
 Boanerges Blitzen put it down to 
 
 "spite." 
 
 42
 
 THE MAN WHO COULD WRITE. 
 Languished in a District desolate and 
 
 dry; 
 Watched the Local Government yearly 
 
 pass him by; 
 Wondered where the hitch was; called it 
 
 most unfair. 
 
 That was seven years ago and he still 
 is there. 
 
 43
 
 MUNICIPAL. 
 
 " WHY is my District death-rate low ? " 
 
 Said Blinks of Hezebad. 
 " Wells, drains, and sewage-outfalls arc 
 
 My own peculiar fad. 
 I learned a lesson once. It ran 
 Thus," quote that most veracious man : 
 
 IT was an August evening, and, in 
 snowy garments clad, 
 I paid a round of visits in the lines of 
 
 Hezebad; 
 When, presently, my Waler saw, and did 
 
 not like at all, 
 
 A Commissariat elephant careering down 
 the Mall. 
 
 I couldn't see the driver, and across my 
 mind it rushed 
 
 That the Commissariat elephant had sud- 
 denly gone musth. 
 
 I didn't care to meet him, and I couldn't 
 well get down, 
 
 So I let the Waler have it, and we 
 headed for the town. 
 
 44
 
 MUNICIPAL. 
 
 The buggy was a new one, and, praise 
 Dykes, it stood the strain, 
 
 Till the Waler jumped a bullock just 
 above the City Drain; 
 
 And the next that I remember was a hur- 
 ricane of squeals, 
 
 And the creature making toothpicks of 
 my five-foot patent wheels. 
 
 He seemed to want the owner, so I fled, 
 
 distraught with fear, 
 To the Main Drain sewage-outfall while 
 
 he snorted in my ear 
 Reached the four-foot drain-head safely, 
 
 and, in darkness and despair, 
 Felt the brute's proboscis fingering my 
 
 terror-stiffened hair. 
 
 Heard it trumpet on my shoulder tried 
 to crawl a little higher 
 45
 
 MUNICIPAL. 
 
 Found the Main Drain sewage-outfall 
 
 blocked, some eight feet up, with 
 
 mire; 
 And, for twenty reeking minutes, Sir, my 
 
 very marrow froze, 
 While the trunk was feeling blindly for a 
 
 purchase on my toes! 
 
 It missed me by a fraction, but my hair 
 
 was turning gray 
 Before they called the drivers up and 
 
 dragged the brute away. 
 Then I sought the City Elders, and my 
 
 words were very plain. 
 They flushed that four-foot drain-head, 
 
 and it never choked again. 
 
 You may hold with surface-drainage, and 
 
 the sun-for-garbage cure, 
 Till you've been a periwinkle shrinking 
 
 coyly up a sewer. 
 46
 
 MUNICIPAL. 
 
 I believe in well-flushed culverts . . . 
 
 This is why the death-rate's small; 
 And, if you don't believe me, get shifo- 
 arred yourself. That's all. 
 
 47
 
 THE LAST DEPARTMENT, 
 
 TWELVE hundred million men are spread 
 About this Earth, and I and You 
 
 Wonder, when You and I are dead, 
 What will those luckless millions do. 
 
 * 4 l\.l ONE whole or clean," we cry, 
 
 1 i "or free from stain 
 Of favor. " Wait awhile, till we attain 
 The Last Department, where nor fraud 
 
 nor fools, 
 
 Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us 
 again. 
 
 Fear, Favor, or Affection what are 
 these 
 
 To the grim Head who claims our ser- 
 vices ? 
 I never knew a wife or interest yet 
 
 Delay that pukka step, miscalled ' de- 
 cease ; " 
 
 When leave, long over-due, none can 
 deny; 
 
 4 8
 
 THE LAST DEPARTMENT. 
 When idleness of all Eternity 
 
 Becomes our furlough, and the marigold 
 Our thriftless, bullion-minting Treasury. 
 
 Transferred to the Eternal Settlement 
 Each in his strait, wood-scantled office 
 
 pent, 
 
 No longer Brown reverses Smith's ap- 
 peals, 
 Or Jones records his Minute of Dissent. 
 
 And One, long since a pillar of the Court, 
 As mud between the beams thereof is 
 
 wrought ; 
 And One who wrote on phosphates for 
 
 the crops 
 Is subject-matter of his own Report. 
 
 (These be the glorious ends whereto we 
 
 pass 
 Let Him who Is, go call on Him who 
 
 Was; 
 
 49
 
 THE LAST DEPARTMENT. 
 
 And He shall see the mallie steals the 
 
 slab 
 
 For currie-grinder, and for goats the 
 grass.) 
 
 A breath of wind, a Border bullet's 
 
 flight, 
 A draught of water, or a horse's fright 
 
 The droning of the fat Sheristadar 
 Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the 
 night 
 
 For you or Me. Do those who live de- 
 cline 
 
 The step that offers, or their work 
 
 resign? 
 
 Trust me, To-day's Most Indispens- 
 ables, 
 
 Five hundred men can take your place or 
 mine. 
 
 50
 
 OTHER VERSES.
 
 TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 
 
 WILL you conquer my heart with 
 your beauty; my soul going out 
 from afar ? 
 
 Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of 
 crafty and cautious shikar ? 
 
 Have I met you and passed you already, 
 unknowing, unthinking and blind ? 
 
 Shall I meet you next session at Simla, O 
 sweetest and best of your kind ? 
 
 Does the P. and O. bear you to me-ward, 
 or, clad in short frocks in the West, 
 
 Are you growing the charms that shall 
 capture and torture the heart in my 
 breast ? 
 
 Will you stay in the Plains till September 
 my passion as warm as the day ? 
 
 Will you bring me to book on the Moun- 
 tains, or where the thermantidotes 
 play ?
 
 TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 
 
 When the light of your eyes shall make 
 pallid the mean lesser lights I pur- 
 sue, 
 
 And the charm of your presence shall 
 lure me from love of the gay " thir- 
 teen-two;" 
 
 When the peg and the pigskin shall please 
 not; when I buy me Calcutta-built 
 clothes; 
 
 When I quit the Delight of Wild Asses; 
 forswearing the swearing of oaths ; 
 
 As a deer to the hand of the hunter when 
 I turn 'mid the gibes of my friends ; 
 
 When the days of my freedom are num- 
 bered, and the life of the bachelor 
 ends. 
 
 Ah Goddess ! child, spinster, or widow 
 as of old on Mars Hill when they 
 raised 
 
 5 2
 
 TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS. 
 
 To the God that they knew not an altar 
 
 so I, a young Pagan, have praised 
 
 The Goddess I know not nor worship; 
 yet, if half that men tell me be true, 
 
 You will come in the future, and there- 
 fore these verses are written to you. 
 
 S3
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE. 
 
 A MUCH-DISCERNING Public hold 
 
 The Singer generally sings 
 Of personal and private things. 
 And prints and sells his past for gold. 
 
 Whatever I may here disclaim, 
 The very clever folk I sing to 
 Will most indubitably cling to 
 
 Their pet delusion, just the same. 
 
 I HAD seen, as dawn was breaking 
 And I staggered to my rest, 
 Tari Devi softly shaking 
 
 From the Cart Road to the crest. 
 I had seen the spurs of Jakko 
 
 Heave and quiver, swell and sink. 
 Was it Earthquake or tobacco, 
 Day of Doom or Night of Drink ? 
 
 In the full, fresh, fragrant morning 
 
 I observed a camel crawl, 
 Laws of gravitation scorning, 
 
 On the ceiling and the wall; 
 54
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE. 
 
 Then I watched a fender walking, 
 
 And I heard gray leeches sing, 
 And a red-hot monkey talking 
 
 Did not seem the proper thing. 
 
 Then a Creature, skinned and crimson, 
 
 Ran about the floor and cried, 
 And they said I had the " jims " on, 
 
 And they dosed me with bromide, 
 And they locked me in my bedroom 
 
 Me and one wee Blood Red Mouse 
 Though I said : "To give my head room 
 
 You had best unroof the house." 
 
 But my words were all unheeded, 
 
 Though I told the grave M. D. 
 That the treatment really needed 
 
 Was a dip in open sea 
 That was lapping just below me, 
 
 Smooth as silver, white as snow, 
 And it took three men to throw me 
 
 When I found I could not go. 
 55
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE. 
 
 Half the night I watched the Heavens 
 
 Fizz like '81 champagne 
 Fly to sixes and to sevens, 
 
 Wheel and thunder back again; 
 And when all was peace and order 
 
 Save one planet nailed askew, 
 Much I wept because my warder 
 
 Would not let me set it true. 
 
 After frenzied hours of waiting, 
 
 When the Earth and Skies were dumb, 
 Pealed an awful voice dictating 
 
 An interminable sum, 
 Changing to a tangled story 
 
 "What she said you said I said " 
 Till the Moon arose in glory, 
 
 And I found her ... in my head; 
 
 Then a Face came, blind and weeping, 
 And It couldn't wipe Its eyes, 
 
 And It muttered I was keeping 
 
 Back the moonlight from the skies ; 
 56
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE. 
 So I patted It for pity, 
 
 But It whistled shrill with wrath, 
 And a huge black Devil City 
 
 Poured its peoples on my path. 
 
 So I fled with steps uncertain 
 
 On a thousand-year long race, 
 But the bellying of the curtain 
 
 Kept me always in one place; 
 While the tumult rose and maddened 
 
 To the roar of Earth on fire, 
 Ere it ebbed and sank and saddened 
 
 To a whisper tense as wire. 
 
 In intolerable stillness 
 
 Rose one little, little star, 
 And it chuckled at my illness, 
 
 And it mocked me from afar; 
 And its brethren came and eyed me, 
 
 Called the Universe to aid; 
 Till I lay, with naught to hide me, 
 
 'Neath the Scorn of All Things Made. 
 57
 
 LA NUIT BLANCHE. 
 
 Dun and saffron, robed and splendid, 
 
 Broke the solemn, pitying Day, 
 And I knew my pains were ended, 
 
 And I turned and tried to pray; 
 But my speech was shattered wholly, 
 
 And I wept as children weep, 
 Till the dawn-wind, softly, slowly 
 
 Brought to burning eyelids sleep.
 
 MY RIVAL. 
 
 I GO to concert, party, ball 
 What profit is in these? 
 I sit alone against the wall 
 
 And strive to look at ease. 
 The incense that is mine by right 
 
 They burn before Her shrine; 
 And that's because I'm seventeen 
 And She is forty-nine. 
 
 I cannot check my girlish blush, 
 
 My color comes and goes; 
 I redden to my finger-tips, 
 
 And sometimes to my nose. 
 But She is white where white should be, 
 
 And red where red should shine. 
 The blush that flies at seventeen 
 
 Is fixed at forty-nine. 
 
 I wish / had Her constant cheek : 
 
 I wish that I could sing 
 All sorts of funny little songs, 
 
 Not quite the proper thing. 
 59
 
 MY RIVAL. 
 
 I'm very gauche and very shy, 
 
 Her jokes aren't in my line; 
 And, worst of all, I'm seventeen 
 
 While She is forty-nine. 
 
 The young men come, the young men go, 
 
 Each pink and white and neat, 
 She's older than their mothers, but 
 
 They grovel at Her feet. 
 They walk beside Her 'rickshaw wheels 
 
 None ever walk by mine ; 
 And that's because I'm seventeen 
 
 And She is forty-nine. 
 
 She rides with half a dozen men, 
 
 (She calls them "boys" and "mashers") 
 I trot along the Mall alone ; 
 
 My prettiest frocks and sashes 
 Don't help to fill my programme-card, 
 
 And vainly I repine 
 From ten to two A.M. Ah me! 
 
 Would I were forty-nine ! 
 60
 
 MY RIVAL. 
 
 She calls me "darling," "pet," and 
 "dear," 
 
 And "sweet retiring maid." 
 I'm always at the back, I know, 
 
 She puts me in the shade. 
 She introduces me to men, 
 
 "Cast " lovers, I opine, 
 For sixty takes to seventeen, 
 
 Nineteen to forty-nine. 
 
 But even She must older grow 
 
 And end Her dancing days, 
 She can't go on forever so 
 
 At concerts, balls, and plays. 
 One ray of priceless hope I see 
 
 Before my footsteps shine : 
 Just think, that She'll be eighty-one 
 
 when I am forty-nine.
 
 THE LOVERS' LITANY. 
 
 EYES of gray a sodden quay, 
 Driving rain and falling tears, 
 As the steamer wears to sea 
 In a parting storm of cheers. 
 
 Sing, for Faith and Hope are high- 
 None so true as you and I 
 Sing the Lovers' Litany: 
 " Love like ours can never die! " 
 
 Eyes of black a throbbing keel, 
 
 Milky foam to left and right; 
 
 Whispered converse near the wheel 
 
 In the brilliant tropic night. 
 
 Cross that rules the Southern Skyf 
 Stars that sweep and wheel and fly 
 Hear the Lovers' Litany: 
 " Love like ours can never die! " 
 
 Eyes of brown a dusty plain 
 
 Split and parched with heat of June, 
 62
 
 THE LOVERS LITANY. 
 Flying hoof and tightened rein, 
 Hearts that beat the old, old tune. 
 Side by side the horses fly, 
 Frame we now the old reply 
 Of the Lovers' Litany : 
 " Love like ours can never die ! " 
 
 Eyes of blue the Simla Hills 
 Silvered with the moonlight hoar; 
 Pleading of the waltz that thrills, 
 Dies and echoes round Benmore. 
 "Mabel," "Officers," " Good-byJ 
 Glamour, wine, and witchery 
 On my soul's sincerity, 
 " Love like ours can never die ! " 
 
 Maidens, of your charity, 
 Pity my most luckless state. 
 Four times Cupid's debtor I 
 Bankrupt in quadruplicate. 
 63
 
 THE LOVERS' LITANY. 
 Yet, despite this evil case, 
 An a maiden showed me grace, 
 Four-and-forty times would I 
 Sing the Lovers' Litany : 
 " Love like ours can never die!" 
 
 64
 
 A BALLAD OF BURIAL. 
 
 ( "Saint PraxecTs ever was the Church for Peace.'''') 
 
 IF down here I chance to die, 
 Solemnly I beg you take 
 All that is left of "I" 
 
 To the Hills for old sake's sake. 
 Pack me very thoroughly 
 
 In the ice that used to slake 
 Pegs I drank when I was dry 
 This observe for old sake's sake. 
 
 To the railway station hie, 
 
 There a single ticket take 
 For Umballa goods train I 
 
 Shall not mind delay or shake. 
 I shall rest contentedly 
 
 Spite of clamor coolies make ; 
 Thus in state and dignity 
 
 Send me up for old sake's sake. 
 
 Next the sleepy Babu wake, 
 Book a Kalka van " for four." 
 
 Few, I think, will care to make 
 Journeys with me any more 
 65
 
 A BALLAD OF BURIAL. 
 As they used to do of yore. 
 
 I shall need a "special " break 
 Thing I never took before 
 
 Get me one for old sake's sake. 
 
 After that arrangements make. 
 
 No hotel will take me in, 
 And a bullock's back would break 
 
 'Neath the teak and leaden skin. 
 Tonga ropes are frail and thin, 
 
 Or, did I a back seat take, 
 In a tonga I might spin 
 
 Do your best for old sake's sake. 
 
 After that your work is done. 
 
 Recollect a Padre must 
 Mourn the dear departed one 
 
 Throw the ashes and the dust. 
 Don't go down at once. I trust 
 
 You will find excuse to "snake 
 Three days' casual on the bust," 
 
 Get your fun for old sake's sake. 
 66
 
 A BALLAD OF BURIAL. 
 I could never stand the Plains. 
 
 Think of blazing June and May, 
 Think of those September rains 
 
 Yearly till the Judgment Day! 
 I should never rest in peace, 
 
 I should sweat and lie awake. 
 Rail me, then, on my decease, 
 
 To the Hills for old sake's sake. 
 
 67
 
 PAGETT, M.P. 
 
 THE toad beneath the harrow knows 
 Exactly where each tooth- point goes. 
 The butterfly upon the road 
 Preaches contentment to that toad. 
 
 "P)AGETT, M.P., was a liar, and a 
 
 1 fluent liar therewith, 
 
 He spoke of the heat of India as the 
 "Asian Solar Myth;" 
 
 Came on a four months' visit, to "study 
 the East," in November, 
 
 And I got him to sign an agreement vow- 
 ing to stay till September. 
 
 March came in with the koil. Pagett 
 
 was cool and gay, 
 Called me a "bloated Brahmin," talked 
 
 of my "princely pay." 
 March went out with the roses. "Where 
 
 is your heat? " said he. 
 " Coming," said I to Pagett. " Skittles ! " 
 
 said Pagett, M.P. 
 68
 
 PAGETT, M.P. 
 
 April began with the punkah, coolies, and 
 
 prickly-heat, 
 Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sandflies 
 
 found him a treat. 
 He grew speckled and lumpy hammered, 
 
 I grieve to say, 
 Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an 
 
 illiberal way. 
 
 May set in with a dust-storm, Pagett 
 
 went down with the sun. 
 All the delights of the season tickled him 
 
 one by one. 
 Imprimis ten days' "liver" due to his 
 
 drinking beer; 
 Later, a dose of fever slight, but he 
 
 called it severe. 
 
 Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the 
 
 Chota Bursat 
 Lowered his portly person made him 
 
 yearn to depart. 
 6g
 
 PAGETT, M.P. 
 
 He didn't call me a ''Brahmin, " or 
 
 "bloated," or " overpaid," 
 But seemed to think it a wonder that any 
 
 one stayed. 
 
 July was a trifle unhealthy, Pagett was ill 
 with fear, 
 
 Called it the " Cholera Morbus," hinted 
 that life was dear. 
 
 He babbled of " Eastern exile," and men- 
 tioned his home with tears; 
 
 But I hadn't seen my children for close 
 upon seven years. 
 
 We reached a hundred and twenty once 
 
 in the Court at noon, 
 (I've mentioned Pagett was portly) Pagett 
 
 went off in a swoon. 
 That was an end to the business; Pagett, 
 
 the perjured, fled 
 With a practical, working knowledge of 
 
 " Solar Myths" in his head. 
 70
 
 PAGETT, M.P. 
 
 And I laughed as I drove from the station, 
 but the mirth died out on my lips 
 
 As I thought of the fools like Pagett who 
 write of their " Eastern trips," 
 
 And the sneers of the travelled idiots who 
 duly misgovern the land, 
 
 And I prayed to the Lord to deliver an- 
 other one into my hand.
 
 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL 
 VIN. 
 
 [ALLOWING for the difference 'twixt prose and 
 rhymed exaggeration, this ought to reproduce the 
 
 sense of what Sir A told the nation some time ago, 
 
 when the Government struck from our incomes two 
 per cent.] 
 
 NOW the New Year, reviving last 
 Year's Debt, 
 The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his 
 
 Net; 
 So I with begging Dish and ready 
 
 Tongue 
 Assail all Men for all that I can get. 
 
 Imports indeed are gone with all their 
 
 Dues 
 Lo ! Salt a Lever that I dare not use, 
 
 Nor may I ask the Tillers in Bengal 
 Surely my Kith and Kin will not refuse! 
 
 Pay and I promise, by the Dust of 
 Spring, 
 
 72
 
 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL 
 VIN. 
 
 Retrenchment. If my promises can bring 
 Comfort, Ye have Them now a thousand- 
 fold 
 By Allah! I will promise Anything! 
 
 Indeed, indeed, Retrenchment oft before 
 
 I swore but did I mean it when I swore? 
 
 And then, and then, We wandered to 
 
 the Hills, 
 And so the Little Less became Much 
 
 More. 
 
 Whether at Boileaugunge or Babylon, 
 I know not how the wretched Thing is 
 
 done, 
 
 The Items of Receipt grow surely small ; 
 The Items of Expense mount one by one. 
 
 I cannot help it. What have I to do 
 With One and Five, or Four, or Three, or 
 Two? 
 
 73
 
 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL 
 VIN. 
 
 Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as 
 
 they please, 
 
 Or Statemen call me foolish Heed not 
 you. 
 
 Behold, I promise Anything You will. 
 Behold, I greet you with an empty Till 
 
 Ah! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity 
 Seek not the Reason of the Dearth, but 
 fill. 
 
 For if I sinned and fell, where lies the 
 Gain 
 
 Of Knowledge ? Would it ease you of 
 
 your Pain 
 
 To know the tangled Threads of Rev- 
 enue, 
 
 I ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein ? 
 
 "Who hath not Prudence" what was it 
 I said, 
 
 74
 
 THE RUPAIYAT OF OMAR KAL 
 VIN. 
 
 Of Her who paints Her Eyes and tires Her 
 
 Head, 
 And gibes and mocks the People in the 
 
 Street, 
 And fawns upon them for Her thriftless 
 
 Bread ? 
 
 Accursed is She of Eve's daughters She 
 Hath cast off Prudence, and Her End 
 
 shall be 
 Destruction . . . Brethien, of your 
 
 Bounty grant 
 Some portion of your daily Bread to Me 
 
 75
 
 THE MARE'S NEST. 
 
 JANE Austen Beecher Stowe de Rouse 
 Was good beyond all earthly need; 
 But, on the other hand, her spouse 
 
 Was very, very bad indeed. 
 He smoked cigars, called churches slow, 
 And raced but this she did not 
 know. 
 
 For Belial Machiavelli kept 
 
 The little fact a secret, and, 
 Though o'er his minor sins she wept, 
 
 Jane Austen did not understand 
 That Lilly thirteen-two and bay 
 Absorbed one-half her husband's pay. 
 
 She was so good, she made him worse; 
 
 (Some women are like this, I think;) 
 He taught her parrot how to curse, 
 
 Her Assam monkey how to drink. 
 He vexed her righteous soul until 
 She went up, and he went down hill. 
 76
 
 THE MARE'S NEST. 
 
 Then came the crisis, strange to say, 
 
 Which turned a good wife to a better. 
 A telegraphic peon, one day, 
 
 Brought her now, had it been a letter 
 For Belial Machiavelli, I 
 Know Jane would just have let it lie. 
 
 But 'twas a telegram instead, 
 
 Marked "urgent," and her duty plain 
 To open it. Jane Austen read : 
 
 " Your Lilly's got a cough again. 
 Can't understand why she is kept 
 At your expense." Jane Austen wept. 
 
 It was a misdirected wire. 
 
 Her husband was at Shaitanpore. 
 She spread her anger, hot as fire, 
 
 Through six thin foreign sheets or 
 
 more, 
 
 Sent off that letter, wrote another 
 To her solicitor and mother. 
 77
 
 THE MARE'S NEST. 
 Then Belial Machiavelli saw 
 
 Her error and, I trust, his own, 
 Wired to the minion of the Law, 
 
 And travelled wifeward not alone. 
 For Lilly thirteen-two and bay 
 Came in a horse-box all the way. 
 
 There was a scene a weep or two 
 With many kisses. Austen Jane 
 
 Rode Lilly all the season through, 
 And never opened wires again. 
 
 She races now with Belial. This 
 
 Is very sad, but so it is.
 
 IN SPRINGTIME. 
 
 MY garden blazes brightly with the 
 rose-bush and the peach, 
 And the k'oil sings above it, in the siris 
 
 by the well, 
 From the creeper-covered trellis comes 
 
 the squirrel's chattering speech, 
 And the blue-jay screams and flutters 
 
 where the cheery sat-bhai dwell. 
 But the rose has lost its fragrance, and 
 
 the kbiVs note is strange; 
 I am sick of endless sunshine, sick of 
 
 blossom-burdened bough. 
 Give me back the leafless woodlands 
 where the winds of Springtime 
 range 
 
 Give me back one day in England, for 
 it's Spring in England now! 
 
 Through the pines the gusts are booming, 
 o'er the brown fields blowing chill, 
 
 79
 
 IN SPRINGTIME. 
 
 From the furrow of the ploughshare 
 
 streams the fragrance of the loam, 
 
 And the hawk nests on the cliff-side and 
 
 the jackdaw in the hill, 
 And my heart is back in England mid 
 
 the sights and sounds of Home. 
 But the garland of the sacrifice this wealth 
 
 of rose and peach is; 
 Ah ! koil, little koil, singing on the sin's 
 
 bough, .-if-- 
 
 * 
 
 In my ears the knell of exile your cease- 
 less bell-like speech is 
 Can you tell me aught of England or of 
 Spring in England now? 
 
 80
 
 THE OVERLAND MAIL. 
 
 (.Foot-Service to the Hills.) 
 
 IN the name of the Empress of India, 
 make way, 
 O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you 
 
 roam. 
 The woods are astir at the close of the 
 
 day 
 We exiles are waiting for letters from 
 
 Home. 
 Let the robber retreat let the tiger turn 
 
 tail 
 
 In the Name of the Empress, the Over- 
 land Mail! 
 
 With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers 
 
 in, 
 He turns to the foot-path that heads 
 
 up the hill 
 
 The bags on his back and a cloth round 
 his chin, 
 
 81
 
 THE OVERLAND MAIL. 
 And, tucked in his waist-belt, the Post 
 
 Office bill: 
 " Despatched on this date, as received by 
 
 the rail, 
 Per runner, two bags of the Overland 
 
 Mail." 
 
 Is the torrent in spate ? He must ford it 
 
 or swim. 
 
 Has the rain wrecked the road ? He 
 must climb by the cliff. 
 
 Does the tempest cry "Halt"? What 
 
 are tempests to him ? 
 The Service admits not a "but" or 
 an "if." 
 
 While the breath's in his mouth, he must 
 bear without fail, 
 
 In the Name of the Empress, the Over- 
 land Mail. 
 
 From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to 
 fir, 
 
 82
 
 THE OVERLAND MAIL. 
 From level to upland, from upland to 
 crest, 
 
 From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock- 
 ridge to spur, 
 
 Fly the soft sandalled feet, strains the 
 brawny brown chest. 
 
 From rail to ravine to the peak from the 
 vale 
 
 Up, up through the night goes the Over- 
 land Mail. 
 
 There's a speck on the hillside, a dot on 
 
 the road 
 A jingle of bells on the foot-path 
 
 below 
 There's a scuffle above in the monkey's 
 
 abode 
 
 The world is awake, and the clouds are 
 aglow. 
 
 83
 
 THE OVERLAND MAIL. 
 
 For the great Sun himself must attend to 
 the hail: 
 
 " In the name of the Empress, the Over- 
 land Mail!" 
 
 84
 
 POSSIBILITIES. 
 
 A Y, lay him 'neath the Simla pine 
 ** A fortnight fully to be missed, 
 
 Behold, we lose our fourth at whist, 
 A chair is vacant where we dine. 
 
 His place forgets him; other men 
 
 Have bought his ponies, guns and traps. 
 His fortune is the Great Perhaps 
 
 And that cool rest-house down the glen, 
 
 Whence he shall hear, as spirits may, 
 Our mundane revel on the height, 
 Shall watch each flashing 'rickshaw- 
 light 
 
 Sweep on to dinner, dance and play. 
 
 Benmore shall woo him to the ball 
 
 With lighted rooms and braying band, 
 And he shall hear and understand 
 
 fi Dream Faces" better than us all. 
 85
 
 POSSIBILITIES. 
 
 For, think you, as the vapors flee 
 Across Sanjaolie after rain, 
 His soul may climb the hill again 
 
 To each old field of victory. 
 
 Unseen, who women held so dear, 
 
 The strong man's yearning to his 
 
 kind 
 Shall shake at most the window-blind, 
 
 Or dull awhile the card-room's cheer. 
 
 In his own place of power unknown, 
 His Light o' Love another's flame. 
 His dearest pony galloped lame, 
 
 And he an alien and alone. 
 
 Yet may he meet with many a friend 
 Shrewd shadows, lingering long un- 
 seen 
 
 Among us when "God save the Queen " 
 Shows even " extras" have an end. 
 86
 
 POSSIBILITIES. 
 
 And, when we leave the heated room, 
 And, when at four the lights expire, 
 The crew shall gather round the fire 
 
 And mock our laughter in the gloom. 
 
 Talk as we talked, and they ere death 
 First wanly, dance in ghostly wise, 
 With ghosts of tunes for melodies, 
 
 And vanish at the morning's breath.
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 " You must choose between me and your cigar." 
 
 OPEN the old cigar-box, get me a 
 Cuba stout, 
 
 For things are running crossways, and 
 Maggie and I are out. 
 
 We quarrelled about Havanas we fought 
 
 o'er a good cheroot, 
 And I know she is exacting,and she says I 
 
 am a brute. 
 
 Open the old cigar-box let me consider 
 
 a space ; 
 In the soft blue veil of the vapor, musing 
 
 on Maggie's face. 
 
 Maggie is pretty to look at Maggie's a 
 
 loving lass, 
 But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle 
 
 the truest of loves must pass. 
 88
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 There's peace in a Laranaga, there's calm 
 
 in a Henry Clay, 
 But the best cigar in an hour is finished 
 
 and thrown away 
 
 Thrown away for another as perfect and 
 
 ripe and brown 
 But I could not throw away Maggie for 
 
 fear o' the talk o' the town ! 
 
 Maggie, my wife at fifty gray and dour 
 
 and old 
 With never another Maggie to purchase 
 
 for love or gold ! 
 
 And the light of Days that have Been, the 
 dark of the Days that Are, 
 
 And Love's torch stinking and stale, like 
 the butt of a -dead cigar 
 
 The butt of a dead cigar you are bound 
 to keep in your pocket 
 89
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 With never a new one to light tho' it's 
 charred and black to the socket. 
 
 Open the old cigar-box let me consider 
 
 a while 
 Here is a mild Manilla there is a wifely 
 
 smile. 
 
 Which is the better portion bondage 
 
 bought with a ring, 
 Or a harem of dusky beauties fifty tied in 
 
 a string ? 
 
 Counsellors cunning and silent com- 
 forters true and trie. 
 
 And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a 
 rival bride. 
 
 Thought in the early morning, solace in 
 
 time of woes, 
 Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm 
 
 ere my eyelids close. 
 90
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 This will the fifty give me, asking nought 
 
 in return, 
 With only a Suttee's passion to do their 
 
 duty and burn. 
 
 This will the fifty give me. When they 
 are spent and dead, 
 
 Five times other fifties shall be my ser- 
 vants instead. 
 
 The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of 
 
 the Spanish Main, 
 When they hear my harem is empty, will 
 
 send me my brides again. 
 
 I will take no heed to their raiment, nor 
 food for their mouth withal, 
 
 So long as the gulls are nesting, so long 
 as the showers fall. 
 
 I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea 
 will I temper their hides, 
 91
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy 
 who read of the tale of my brides. 
 
 For Maggie has written a letter to give 
 
 me my choice between 
 The wee little whimpering Love and the 
 
 great god Nick o' Teen. 
 
 And I have been servant of Love for 
 barely a twelvemonth clear, 
 
 But I have been Priest of Partagas a 
 matter of seven year; 
 
 And the gloom of my bachelor days is 
 flecked with the cheery light 
 
 Of stumps that I burned to Friendship 
 and Pleasure and Work and Fight. 
 
 And I turn my eyes to the future that 
 
 Maggie and I must prove, 
 But the only light on the marshes is the 
 
 Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love. 
 92
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 Will it see me safe through my journey, 
 
 or leave me bogged in the mire? 
 Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall 
 
 I follow the fitful fire? 
 
 Open the old cigar-box let me consider 
 
 anew 
 Old friends, and who is Maggie that I 
 
 should abandon you ? 
 
 A million surplus Maggies are willing to 
 
 bear the yoke; 
 And a woman is only a woman, but a 
 
 good cigar is a Smoke. 
 
 Light me another Cuba; I hold to my 
 
 first-sworn vows, 
 If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no 
 
 Maggie for spouse! 
 
 93
 
 A 001