Rudyard Kipling Poems
|521.||A Lover's Journey||1/3/2003|
|522.||Follow Me 'Ome||12/31/2002|
|524.||The Female Of The Species||12/31/2002|
|525.||The Power Of The Dog||12/31/2002|
|527.||The Men That Fought At Minden||12/31/2002|
|528.||The Young British Soldier||12/31/2002|
|529.||Yet At The Last||1/3/2003|
|530.||Christmas In India||1/3/2003|
|531.||When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted||12/31/2002|
|532.||A Legend Of Truth||1/3/2003|
|533.||A Smuggler's Song||1/3/2003|
|536.||I Keep Six Honest...||1/3/2003|
|538.||A Ballad Of Burial||12/31/2002|
|539.||Mary, Pity Women!||12/31/2002|
|540.||Mother O' Mine||1/3/2003|
|543.||A Servant When He Reigneth||1/1/2004|
|546.||A Code Of Morals||1/3/2003|
|548.||A Child's Garden||1/3/2003|
A Child's Garden
R. L. Stevenson
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 ...
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.