Rudyard Kipling (30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936 / Bombay)
Poems of Rudyard Kipling
|521.||To The True Romance||12/31/2002|
|522.||To the Unknown Goddess||12/31/2002|
|523.||To Thomas Atkins||12/31/2002|
|524.||To Wolcott Balestier||12/31/2002|
|525.||To: Thomas Atkins||3/29/2010|
|529.||Toomai of the Elephants||1/3/2003|
|535.||We and They||12/31/2002|
|537.||What the People Said||12/31/2002|
|538.||When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted||12/31/2002|
The First Chantey
Mine was the woman to me, darkling I found her;
Haling her dumb from the camp, took her and bound her.
Hot rose her tribe on our track ere I had proved her;
Hearing her laugh in the gloom, greatly I loved her.
Swift through the forest we ran; none stood to guard us,
Few were my people and far; then the flood barred us --
Him we call Son of the Sea, sullen and swollen.
Panting we waited the death, stealer and stolen.