Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Rudyard Kipling
Since ye distemper and defile
Sweet Herè by the measured mile,
Nor aught on jocund highways heed
Except the evidence of speed;
And bear about your dreadful task
Faces beshrouded ’neath a mask;
Great goblin eyes and glue hands
And souls enslaved to gears and bands;
Here shall no graver curse be said
Than, though y’are quick, that ye are dead!