Chapter Headings - The Naulahka Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: ABABCDCD EFGH IJKLJMNOJPQRDSTUVW DDXX YZYZDMA2MMMMMMB2M C2ED2EJJE2E2 F2NF2F2N G2H2G2G2G2I2J2G2G2H2 DDDG2G2 G2G2DDK2K2G2G2J2I2MM PPL2L2YY DDG2D K2G2G2G2 G2M2 G2M2 TN2TN2N2 O2P2O2P2P2

There was a strife 'twixt man and maidA
Oh that was at the birth of timeB
But what befall 'twixt man and maidA
Oh that's beyond the grip of rhymeB
'Twas Sweet I must not bide with youC
And Love I cannot bide aloneD
For both were young and both were trueC
And both were hard as the nether stoneD
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Beware the man who's crossed in loveE
For pent up steam must find its ventF
Stand back when he is on the moveG
And lend him all the ContinentH
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Your patience Sirs The Devil took me upI
To the burned mountain over SicilyJ
Fit place for me and thence I saw my EarthK
Not all Earth's splendour 'twas beyond my needL
And that one spot I love all Earth to meJ
And her I love my Heaven What said IM
My love was safe from all the powers of HellN
For you e'en you acquit her of my guiltO
But Sula nestling by our sail specked seaJ
My city child of mine my heart my homeP
Mine and my pride evil might visit thereQ
It was for Sula and her naked portR
Prey to the galleys of the AlgerineD
Our city Sula that I drove my priceS
For love of Sula and for love of herT
The twain were woven gold on sackcloth twinedU
Past any sundering till God shall judgeV
The evil and the goodW
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Now it is not good for the Christian's health to hustle the Aryan brownD
For the Christian riles and the Aryan smiles and he weareth the Christian downD
And the end of the fight is a tombstone white with the name of the late deceasedX
And the epitaph drear A Fool lies here who tried to hustle the EastX
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There is pleasure in the wet wet clayY
When the artist's hand is potting itZ
There is pleasure in the wet wet layY
When the poet's pad is blotting itZ
There is pleasure in the shine of your picture on the lineD
At the Royal Acade myM
But the pleasure felt in these is as chalk to Cheddar cheeseA2
When it comes to a well made LieM
To a quite unwreckable LieM
To a most impeccable LieM
To a watertight fire proof angle iron sunk hinge time lock steel faced LieM
Not a private hansom LieM
But a pair and brougham LieM
Not a little place at Tooting but a country house with shootingB2
And a ring fence deer park LieM
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When a lover hies abroadC2
Looking for his loveE
Azrael smiling sheathes his swordD2
Heaven smiles aboveE
Earth and seaJ
His servants beJ
And to lesser compass roundE2
That his love be sooner foundE2
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We meet in an evil landF2
That is near to the gates of hellN
I wait for thy commandF2
To serve to speed or withstandF2
And thou sayest I do not wellN
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Oh Love the flowers so redG2
Are only tongues of flameH2
The earth is full of the deadG2
The new killed restless deadG2
There is danger beneath and o'erheadG2
And I guard thy gates in fearI2
Of words thou canst not hearJ2
Of peril and jeopardyG2
Of signs thou canst not seeG2
And thou sayest 'tis ill that I cameH2
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This I saw when the rites were doneD
And the lamps were dead and the Gods aloneD
And the grey snake coiled on the altar stoneD
Ere I fled from a Fear that I could not seeG2
And the Gods of the East made mouths at meG2
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Beat off in our last fight were weG2
The greater need to seek the seaG2
For Fortune changeth as the moonD
To caravel and picaroonD
Then Eastward Ho or Westward HoK2
Whichever wind may meetest blowK2
Our quarry sails on either seaG2
Fat prey for such bold lads as weG2
And every sun dried buccaneerJ2
Must hand and reef and watch and steerI2
And bear great wrath of sea and skyM
Before the plate ships wallow byM
Now as our tall bows take the foamP
Let no man turn his heart to homeP
Save to desire treasure moreL2
And larger warehouse for his storeL2
When treasure won from Santos BayY
Shall make our sea washed village gayY
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Because I sought it far from menD
In deserts and aloneD
I found it burning overheadG2
The jewel of a ThroneD
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Because I sought I sought it soK2
And spent my days to findG2
It blazed one moment ere it leftG2
The blacker night behindG2
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We be the Gods of the EastG2
Older than allM2
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Masters of Mourning and FeastG2
How shall we fallM2
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Will they gape for the husks that ye profferT
Or yearn to your songN2
And we have we nothing to offerT
Who ruled them so longN2
In the fume of the incense the clash of the cymbals the blare of the conch and the gongN2
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Over the strife of the schoolsO2
Low the day burnsP2
Back with the kine from the poolsO2
Each one returnsP2
To the life that he knows where the altar flame glows and the tulsi is trimmed in the urnsP2

Rudyard Kipling



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