Beast And Man In India Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABA CDED AFGF H AAAA CICI C IIII ICIC I JKIK ICLC MNMN A AALLAAOOAAIILLPI

They killed a Child to please the GodsA
In Earth's young penitenceA
And I have bled in that Babe's steadB
Because of innocenceA
-
I bear the sins of sinful menC
That have no sin of my ownD
They drive me forth to Heaven's wrathE
Unpastured and aloneD
-
I am the meat of sacrificeA
The ransom of man's guiltF
For they give my life to the altar knifeG
Wherever shrine is builtF
-
The GoatH
-
-
Between the waving tufts of jungle grassA
Up from the river as the twilight fallsA
Across the dust beclouded plain they passA
On to the village wallsA
-
Great is the sword and mighty is the penC
But over all the labouring ploughman's bladeI
For on its oxen and its husbandmenC
An Empire's strength is laidI
-
The OxenC
-
-
The torn boughs trailing o'er the tusks aslantI
The saplings reeling in the path he trodI
Declare his might our lord the ElephantI
Chief of the ways of GodI
-
The black bulk heaving where the oxen pantI
The bowed head toiling where the guns careenC
Declare our might our slave the ElephantI
And servant of the QueenC
-
The ElephantI
-
-
Dark children of the mere and marshJ
Wallow and waste and leaK
Outcaste they wait at the village gateI
With folk of low degreeK
-
Their pasture is in no man's landI
Their food the cattle's scornC
Their rest is mire and their desireL
The thicket and the thornC
-
But woe to those that break their sleepM
And woe to those that dareN
To rouse the herd bull from his keepM
The wild boar from his lairN
-
Pigs and BuffaloesA
-
-
The beasts are very wiseA
Their mouths are clean of liesA
They talk one to the otherL
Bullock to bullock's brotherL
Resting after their laboursA
Each in stall with his neighboursA
But man with goad and whipO
Breaks up their fellowshipO
Shouts in their silky earsA
Filling their soul with fearsA
When he has ploughed the landI
He says quot They understand quotI
But the beasts in stall togetherL
Freed from the yoke and tetherL
Say as the torn flanks smokeP
quot Nay 'twas the whip that spoke quotI

Rudyard Kipling



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