Rudyard Kipling Poems

  • 551.  
    (A.D. 687)

  • 552.  
    By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed
    From the cliff where she lay in the SunFell the Stone
  • 553.  
    When, foot to wheel and back to wind,
    The helmsman dare not look behind,But hears beyond his compass-light,
  • 554.  
    We have another viceroy now, -- those days are dead and done
    Of Delilah Aberyswith and depraved Ulysses Gunne.
  • 555.  
    Oh, light was the world that he weighed in his hands!
    Oh, heavy the tale of his fiefs and his lands! He has gone from the guddee and put on the shroud,
  • 556.  
    (Non-commissioned Officers in Charge of Prisoners)

  • 557.  
    I am the Most Wise Baviaan, saying in Most wise tones,
    "Let us melt into the landscape -- just us two by our lones."People have come -- in a carriage -- calling. But Mummy is
  • 558.  
    'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
    With a hairy gold crown on 'er 'ead?She 'as ships on the foam -- she 'as millions at 'ome,
  • 559.  
    I go to concert, party, ball --
    What profit is in these?I sit alone against the wall
  • 560.  
    Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee
    Our love and toil in the years to be;When we are grown and take our place
  • 561.  
    The Army Musket--1700-1815

  • 562.  
    A.D. 980-1016

  • 563.  
    Now Chil the Kite brings home the night
    That Mang the Bat sets free--The herds are shut in byre and hut,
  • 564.  
    I have a dream -- a dreadful dream --
    A dream that is never done.I watch a man go out of his mind,
  • 565.  
    The stream is shrunk--the pool is dry,
    And we be comrades, thou and I;With fevered jowl and dusty flank
  • 566.  
    The man that is open of heart to his neighbour,
    And stops to consider his likes and dislikes,His blood shall be wholesome whatever his labour,
  • 567.  
    1914-18

  • 568.  
    1914-18

  • 569.  
    The earth is full of anger,
    The seas are dark with wrath,The Nations in their harness
  • 570.  
    Before a midnight breaks in storm,
    Or herded sea in wrath,Ye know what wavering gusts inform
  • 571.  
    Farewell and adieu to you, Harwich Ladies,
    Farewell and adieu to you, ladies ashore! For we've received orders to work to the eastward
  • 572.  
    The Law whereby my lady moves
    Was never Law to me, But 'tis enough that she approves
  • 573.  
    Who hath desired the Sea? -- the sight of salt water unbounded --
    The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?The sleek-barrelled swell before storm, grey, foamless, enormous, and growing --
  • 574.  
    I've a head like a concertina: I've a tongue like a button-stick:
    I've a mouth like an old potato, and I'm more than a little sick,But I've had my fun o' the Corp'ral's Guard: I've made the cinders fly,
  • 575.  
    Roman Occupation of Britain, A.D. 300

  • 576.  
    (Field Marshal Lord Roberts of Kandahar)

  • 577.  
    Man dies too soon, beside his works half-planned.
    His days are counted and reprieve is vain:Who shall entreat with Death to stay his hand;
  • 578.  
    Once red ripple came to land
    In the golden sunset burning--Lapped against a maiden's hand,
  • 579.  
    Parliaments of Henry III., 1265

  • 580.  
    Since first the White Horse Banner blew free,
    By Hengist's horde unfurled,Nothing has changed on land or sea
  • 581.  
    Written for "The Pageant of Parliament," 1934

  • 582.  
    Jane went to Paradise:
    That was only fair.Good Sir Walter followed her,
  • 583.  
    One moment bid the horses wait,
    Since tiffin is not laid till three,Below the upward path and straight
  • 584.  
    I'm 'ere in a ticky ulster an' a broken billycock 'at,
    A-layin' on the sergeant I don't know a gun from a bat;My shirt's doin' duty for jacket, my sock's stickin' out o' my boots,
  • 585.  
    Modern Machinery
    We were taken from the ore-bed and the mine,We were melted in the furnace and the pit--
  • 586.  
    (A. D. 406)
    "A Centurion of the Thirtieth"
  • 587.  
    To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned,
    To my brethren in their sorrow overseas,Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed,
  • 588.  
    We meet in an evil land
    That is near to the gates of hell. I wait for thy command
  • 589.  
    What is a woman that you forsake her,
    And the hearth-fire and the home-acre. To go with the old grey Widow-maker?
  • 590.  
    "What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade.
    "To turn you out, to turn you out", the Colour-Sergeant said."What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
  • 591.  
    There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
    And the ricks stand gray to the sun,Singing: -- "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover,
  • 592.  
    October, 1918

  • 593.  
    1917

  • 594.  
    (A.D. 1800)

  • 595.  
    Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square,
    And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him by the hair --A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried him far away,
  • 596.  
    Dread Mother of Forgetfulness
    Who, when Thy reign begins,Wipest away the Soul's distress,
  • 597.  
    The eldest son bestrides him,
    And the pretty daughter rides him, And I meet him oft o' mornings on the Course;
  • 598.  
    When 'Omer smote 'is bloomin' lyre,
    He'd 'eard men sing by land an' sea; An' what he thought 'e might require,
  • 599.  
    For all we have and are,
    For all our children's fate, Stand up and meet the war.
  • 600.  
    Dim dawn behind the tamerisks -- the sky is saffron-yellow --
    As the women in the village grind the corn,And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow
Total 690 poems written by Rudyard Kipling

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Adam Lindsay Gordon Poem
Part Ii: The Fields Of Coleraine
 by Adam Lindsay Gordon

On the fields of Col'raine there'll be labour in vain
Before the Great Western is ended,
The nags will have toil'd, and the silks will be soil'd.
And the rails will require to be mended.

For the gullies are deep, and the uplands are steep,
And mud will of purls be the token,
And the tough stringy-bark, that invites us to lark,
...

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