Work poems
/ page 269 of 355 /
Pagett, M.P.
© Rudyard Kipling
The toad beneath the harrow knows
Exactly where eath tooth-point goes.
The butterfly upon the road
Preaches contentment to that toad.
Outsong in the Jungle
© Rudyard Kipling
For the sake of him who showed
One wise Frog the Jungle-Road,
Keep the Law the Man-Pack make
For thy blind old Baloo's sake!
Our Fathers Also
© Rudyard Kipling
The grapes are pressed, the corn is shocked--
Standeth no more to glean;
For the Gates of Love and Learning locked
When they went out between.
One Viceroy Resigns
© Rudyard Kipling
So here's your Empire. No more wine, then?
Good.
We'll clear the Aides and khitmatgars away.
(You'll know that fat old fellow with the knife --
An Old Song
© Rudyard Kipling
So long as 'neath the Kalka hills
The tonga-horn shall ring,
So long as down the Solon dip
The hard-held ponies swing,
My New-Cut Ashler
© Rudyard Kipling
My New-Cut ashlar takes the light
Where crimson-blank the windows flare.
By my own work before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.
The Hymn Of Man
© Khalil Gibran
I was,
And I am.
So shall I be to the end of time,
For I am without end.
Songs of the Autumn Days
© George MacDonald
We bore him through the golden land,
One early harvest morn;
The corn stood ripe on either hand-
He knew all about the corn.
Mine Sweepers
© Rudyard Kipling
Dawn off the Foreland--the young flood making
Jumbled and short and steep--
Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking--
Awkward water to sweep.
The Men That Fought at Minden
© Rudyard Kipling
The men that fought at Minden, they was rookies in their time --
So was them that fought at Waterloo!
All the 'ole command, yuss, from Minden to Maiwand,
They was once dam' sweeps like you!
Mary's Son
© Rudyard Kipling
If you stop to find out what your wages will be
And how they will clothe and feed you,
Willie, my son, don't you go on the Sea.
For the Sea will never need you.
The Mary Gloster
© Rudyard Kipling
I've paid for your sickest fancies; I've humoured your crackedest whim --
Dick, it's your daddy, dying; you've got to listen to him!
Good for a fortnight, am I? The doctor told you? He lied.
I shall go under by morning, and -- Put that nurse outside.
The Dead To The Living
© Edith Nesbit
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
The Cellar Door
© John Clare
By the old tavern door on the causey there lay
A hogshead of stingo just rolled from a dray,
Loot
© Rudyard Kipling
If you've ever stole a pheasant-egg be'ind the keeper's back,
If you've ever snigged the washin' from the line,
If you've ever crammed a gander in your bloomin' 'aversack,
You will understand this little song o' mine.
Metamorphoses: Book The Fourth
© Ovid
The End of the Fourth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The Lesson
© Rudyard Kipling
Not on a single issue, or in one direction or twain,
But conclusively, comprehensively, and several times and
again,
The Legend of Evil
© Rudyard Kipling
I
This is the sorrowful story
Told when the twilight fails
And the monkeys walk together
The Last of the Light Brigade
© Rudyard Kipling
There were thirty million English who talked of England's might,
There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;
They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.
The Last Department
© 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?"
