Happy Easter!!!

Cold Iron

by Rudyard Kipling

“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid —

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”

“Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.”

–

So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege,

Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.

“Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!”

–

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,

When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along;

He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,

And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!

–

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)

“What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?”

“Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall,

For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.”

–

“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown —

Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.”

“As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

Yet his King made answer  (few such Kings there be!)

“Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me.

Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall

How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!”

–

He took the Wine and blessed it.  He blessed and brake the Bread.

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

“See!  These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,

Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all.”

–

“Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.

Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall —

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

“Crowns are for the valiant — scepters for the bold!

Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!”

“Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all!

Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”

Happy Easter, readers!

The Mithril Guardian

The Last Department by Rudyard Kipling

The Last Department

by Rudyard Kipling

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?”

None whole or clean, ” we cry, “or free from stain
Of favour.” Wait awhile, till we attain
The Last Department where nor fraud nor fools,
Nor grade nor greed, shall trouble us again.

Fear, Favour, or Affection — what are these
To the grim Head who claims our services?
I never knew a wife or interest yet
Delay that pukka step, miscalled “decease”;

When leave, long overdue, none can deny;
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 appeals,
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;
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 firght —
The droning of the fat Sheristadar
Ceases, the punkah stops, and falls the night

For you or Me. Do those who live decline
The step that offers, or their work resign?
Trust me, To-day’s Most Indispensables,
Five hundred men can take your place or mine.

The Gods of the Copybook Headings by Rudyard Kipling

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

by Rudyard Kipling

As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “Stick to the Devil you know.”

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “The Wages of Sin is Death.”

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: “If you don’t work you die.”

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

The Law of the Jungle by Rudyard Kipling

The Law of the Jungle

by Rudyard Kipling

NOW this is the Law of the Jungle — as old and as true as the sky;
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
–
As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back —
For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
–
Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip; drink deeply, but never too deep;
And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep.
–
The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown,
Remember the Wolf is a Hunter — go forth and get food of thine own.
–
Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle — the Tiger, the Panther, and Bear.
And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.
–
When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail,
Lie down till the leaders have spoken — it may be fair words shall prevail.
–
When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar,
Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.
–
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home,
Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.
–
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, but where he has digged it too plain,
The Council shall send him a message, and so he shall change it again.
–
If ye kill before midnight, be silent, and wake not the woods with your bay,
Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop, and your brothers go empty away.
–
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can;
But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man!
–
If ye plunder his Kill from a weaker, devour not all in thy pride;
Pack-Right is the right of the meanest; so leave him the head and the hide.
–
The Kill of the Pack is the meat of the Pack. Ye must eat where it lies;
And no one may carry away of that meat to his lair, or he dies.
–
The Kill of the Wolf is the meat of the Wolf. He may do what he will;
But, till he has given permission, the Pack may not eat of that Kill.
–
Cub-Right is the right of the Yearling. From all of his Pack he may claim
Full-gorge when the killer has eaten; and none may refuse him the same.
–
Lair-Right is the right of the Mother. From all of her year she may claim
One haunch of each kill for her litter, and none may deny her the same.
–
Cave-Right is the right of the Father — to hunt by himself for his own:
He is freed of all calls to the Pack; he is judged by the Council alone.
–
Because of his age and his cunning, because of his gripe and his paw,
In all that the Law leaveth open, the word of your Head Wolf is Law.
–
Now these are the Laws of the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;
But the head and the hoof of the Law and the haunch and the hump is — Obey!

Happy Easter! – Cold Iron by Rudyard Kipling

Cold Iron

by Rudyard Kipling

“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid —

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”

“Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.”

–

So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege,

Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.

“Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!”

–

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,

When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along;

He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,

And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!

–

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)

“What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?”

“Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall,

For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.”

–

“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown —

Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.”

“As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

Yet his King made answer  (few such Kings there be!)

“Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me.

Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall

How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!”

–

He took the Wine and blessed it.  He blessed and brake the Bread.

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

“See!  These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,

Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all.”

–

“Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.

Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall —

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

“Crowns are for the valiant — scepters for the bold!

Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!”

“Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all!

Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”

Happy Easter, readers!

The Mithril Guardian

Reference(s):

http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/cold_iron.html

Happy Easter!!!

Cold Iron

by Rudyard Kipling

“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid —

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”

“Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.”

–

So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege,

Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.

“Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!”

–

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,

When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along;

He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,

And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!

–

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)

“What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?”

“Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall,

For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.”

–

“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown —

Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.”

“As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

Yet his King made answer  (few such Kings there be!)

“Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me.

Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall

How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!”

–

He took the Wine and blessed it.  He blessed and brake the Bread.

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

“See!  These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,

Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all.”

–

“Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.

Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall —

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

“Crowns are for the valiant — scepters for the bold!

Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!”

“Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all!

Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”

Happy Easter, readers!

The Mithril Guardian

Reference(s):

http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/cold_iron.html

Cold Iron by Rudyard Kipling

Cold Iron

by Rudyard Kipling

“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid —

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”

“Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.”

–

So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege,

Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.

“Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!”

–

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,

When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along;

He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,

And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!

–

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)

“What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?”

“Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall,

For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.”

–

“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown —

Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.”

“As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

Yet his King made answer  (few such Kings there be!)

“Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me.

Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall

How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!”

–

He took the Wine and blessed it.  He blessed and brake the Bread.

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

“See!  These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,

Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all.”

–

“Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.

Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall —

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

“Crowns are for the valiant — scepters for the bold!

Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!”

“Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all!

Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”

Happy Easter, readers!

The Mithril Guardian

Reference(s):

http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/cold_iron.html

Happy Easter!!!!

Cold Iron

by Rudyard Kipling

“Gold is for the mistress — silver for the maid —

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.”

“Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of them all.”

–

So he made rebellion ‘gainst the King his liege,

Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.

“Nay!” said the cannoneer on the castle wall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — shall be master of you all!”

–

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,

When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along;

He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,

And Iron — Cold Iron — was master of it all!

–

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)

“What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?”

“Nay!” said the Baron, “mock not at my fall,

For Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all.”

–

“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown —

Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.”

“As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

Yet his King made answer  (few such Kings there be!)

“Here is Bread and here is Wine — sit and sup with me.

Eat and drink in Mary’s Name, the whiles I do recall

How Iron — Cold Iron — can be master of men all!”

–

He took the Wine and blessed it.  He blessed and brake the Bread.

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

“See!  These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,

Show Iron — Cold Iron — to be master of men all.”

–

“Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.

Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

I forgive thy treason — I redeem thy fall —

For Iron — Cold Iron — must be master of men all!”

–

“Crowns are for the valiant — scepters for the bold!

Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold!”

“Nay!” said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,

“But Iron — Cold Iron — is master of men all!

Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!”

Happy Easter, readers!

The Mithril Guardian

Reference(s):

http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/cold_iron.html

Quotable Quotes #12

I don’t need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does the much better. – Plutarch, Greek essayist

Love is love’s reward. – John Dryden

There are several good protections against temptations, but the surest is cowardice. – Mark Twain

Life is too important to be taken seriously. – Oscar Wilde

Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination. – Voltaire, French philosopher

The silliest woman can manage a clever man; but it needs a very clever woman to manage a fool. – Rudyard Kipling

It is easier to be wise for others than for ourselves. – Francois de la Rochefoucauld

Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth. – Buddha

It is not length of life but depth of life. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. – Oscar Wilde

I hate quotations. Tell me what you know. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

If (for Boys) by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

  –

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

   –

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

  –

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!