Archives: Poems

1 
“This is the State above the Law.
   The State exists for the State alone.”
[This is a gland at the back of the jaw,
   And an answering lump by the collar-bone.] 
2 
Some die shouting in gas or fire;
  Some die silent, by shell and shot.
Some die desperate, caught on the wire;
  Some die suddenly. This will not. 
3 
“Regis suprema voluntas Lex”
   [It will follow the regular course of—throats.] 
Some die pinned by the broken decks,
   Some die sobbing between the boats. 
4 
Some die eloquent, pressed to death
  By the sliding trench as their friends can hear.
Some die wholly in half a breath.
  Some—give trouble for half a year. 
5 
“There is neither Evil nor Good in life
   Except as the needs of the State ordain.”
[Since it is rather too late for the knife,
  All we can do is to mask the pain.] 
6 
Some die saintly in faith and hope—
   One died thus in a prison-yard—
Some die broken by rape or the rope;
  Some die easily. This dies hard. 
7 
“I will dash to pieces who bar my way.
   Woe to the traitor! Woe to the weak!”
[Let him write what he wishes to say.
   It tires him out if he tries to speak.] 
8 
Some die quietly. Some abound
   In loud self-pity. Others spread
Bad morale through the cots around ...
  This is a type that is better dead. 
9 
“The war was forced on me by my foes.
   All that I sought was the right to live.”
[Don’t be afraid of a triple dose;
  The pain will neutralize half we give. 
10 
Here are the needles. See that he dies
  While the effects of the drug endure ...
What is the question he asks with his eyes?—
  Yes, All-Highest, to God, be sure.] 

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I who was crowned King am now bereft
  Of crown and treasure.
I, who was Monarch, have no good thing left
  To give me pleasure.

I had my treasure guarded faithfully,
  By one sure heart—
My crown seemed mine to all eternity
  But both depart.
I am discrowned and my treasure flies
Out of these arms, away from these sad eyes.

I faced the world and proved myself a man, 
  In word & deed.
I knew my treasure safe and foremost ran
  To others' need.
What comfort can I give thee now O friend—
Seeing both crown & treasure are at end?

Oh give me back my old life's crown again,
  My old life's treasure—
I have been tested and I shrank the pain
  Let me taste pleasure—
O give me back my treasure in my breast—
Only for this life—God shall judge the rest—

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 The cousin premises of the beauty of his poem
1
As coming from an Eastern Land,
I'd have the cousins understand,
'Tis absolutely stiff with speeches,
An Eastern printing office teaches,
And rich with Hindu mystery
In Tamil, Urdu and Hindi.

and of its extreme subtilty in parts
2
For instance—when the loathsome 'tar'
Calls the 'chuprassi' from afar
And at your 'hookum' swift he goes
A 'tunda moorghie'—minus clothes
Across the 'maidan's' icy space
With 'kummels' clouted round his face.
     This to the English mind—I'm sure—
     Might seem a little bit obscure 
     But to this Anglo-Indian one  
     It shows his labour is begun.

and continues his tale yet further in mystic wise
3
Moreover, when the 'admis' sit
With Rook-ud-din's most greasy 'chit'
And to your 'Kia hai' some grunter
Growls 'Gurebpurwar Jawab Munta',
     This to the cousins might indeed
     Appear a jabberwocky screed:
     But to the tortured Rudyard's soul
     It shows his foreman's in a hole.

and with a display of great wisdom in his poesie.
4
And further—when all work is 'chuck'
And boss and 'stunt' sit round & 'buck'
And through the 'chics' the 'tattoos' neigh
Comes clearly from the near 'Serai',
Then rising cry we 'Syce bolow'
Snatch up 'terais' and 'Juldee Jao'.
     This may appear—but I'm resolved
     It shall not seem the least involved
     And so I tell you, for your knowing
     These six lines show the staff when going.

5
Yet once more—by the 'chillag's' light
When 'wallahs' wake you in the night
With 'Hakim Sahib ke gher khan hai
Memsahib bemar'— and you reply
Half wakened 'Memsahib bahut bemar
Tomara pahs nehai sowar'.
     This in a London city read
     Would prove the poet off his head
     But in an Anglo Indian station
     It means—increase of population.

Lest you should think this story true
I merely mention I evolved it lately.
'Tis a most Unmitigated misstatement.

1 
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 working of the Code that sets the miles at naught.
2 
And Love had made him very sage, as Nature made her fair;
So Cupid and Apollo linked, per heliograph, the pair.
At dawn, across the Hurrum Hills, he flashed her counsel wise–
At e'en, the dying sunset bore her husband's homilies.
3 
He warned her 'gainst seductive youths in scarlet clad and gold,
As much as 'gainst the blandishments paternal of the old;
But kept his gravest warnings for (hereby the ditty hangs)
That snowy-haired Lothario, Lieutenant-General Bangs.
4 
'T'was General Bangs, with Aide and Staff, who tittupped on the way,
When they beheld a heliograph tempestuously 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–
5 
"Dash dot dot, dot, dot dash, dot dash dot" twice. The General swore.
"Was ever General Officer addressed as 'dear' before?
"'My Love,' i' faith! 'My Duck,' Gadzooks! 'My darling popsy-wop!'
"Spirit of great Lord Wolseley, who is on that mountain top?"
6 
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 lightning-flare, the husband's warning ran:–
"Don't dance or ride with General Bangs–a most immoral man."
7 
[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 heliographed his wife
Some interesting details of the General's private life.
8 
The artless Aide-de-camp was mute, the shining Staff were still,
And red and ever redder grew the General's shaven gill.
And this is what he said at last (his feelings matter not):–
"I think we've tapped a private line. Hi! Threes about there! Trot!"
9 
All honour 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 Mooltan
They know the worthy General as "that most immoral man."

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1 
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. 
2 
Our garden is not very wide,
And cars go by on either side,
And make an angry-hooty noise
That rather startles little boys. 
3 
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. 
4 
But when I’m on my back again,
I watch the Croydon aeroplane
That flies across to France, and sings
Like hitting thick piano-strings. 
5 
When I am strong enough to do
The things I’m truly wishful to,
I’ll never use a car or train
But always have an aeroplane; 
6 
And just go zooming round and round,
And frighten Nursey with the sound,
And see the angel-side of clouds,
And spit on all those motor-crowds!

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Take of English earth as much
As either hand may rightly clutch. 
In the taking of it breathe
Prayer for all who lie beneath. 
Not the great nor well-bespoke, 
But the mere uncounted folk 
Of whose life and death is none 
Report or lamentation.
      Lay that earth upon thy heart, 
      And thy sickness shall depart!

It shall sweeten and make whole 
Fevered breath and festered soul. 
It shall mightily restrain 
Over-busied hand and brain,
It shall ease thy mortal strife 
'Gainst the immortal woe of life, 
      Till thyself, restored, shall prove 
      By what grace the Heavens do move.

Take of English flowers these
Spring's full-faced primroses, 
Summer's wild wide-hearted rose, 
Autumn's wall-flower of the close, 
And, thy darkness to illume, 
Winter's bee-thronged ivy-bloom. 
Seek and serve them where they bide 
From Candlemas to Christmas-tide, 
      For these simples, used aright, 
      Can restore a failing sight.

These shall cleanse and purify 
Webbed and inward-turning eye; 
These shall show thee treasure hid 
Thy familiar fields amid;
At thy threshold, on thy hearth,
Or about thy daily path;
And reveal (which is thy need) 
Every man a King indeed!

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My father's father saw it not,
  And I, belike, shall never come 
To look on that so-holy spot -
              That very Rome - 

Crowned by all Time, all Art, all Might,
  The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height - 
              The Race began!

 Soon to send forth again a brood,
  Unshakable, we pray, that clings
 To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood - 
              In arduous things.

 Strong heart with triple armour bound,
  Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
 Age after Age, the Empire round - 
              In us thy Sons

 Who, distant from the Seven Hills,
  Loving and serving much, require
 Thee - thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
              The  Imperial Fire!

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