The Writings in Prose and Verse of Rudyard Kipling, Том 17

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Scribner's Sons, 1899
 

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Сторінка 228 - Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire? Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire? Open the old cigar-box — let me consider anew — Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you? A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke ; And a woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a Smoke.
Сторінка 278 - Yet they talk of times and seasons and of woe the years bring forth, Of our galley swamped and shattered in the rollers of the North. When the niggers break the hatches and the decks are gay with gore, And a craven-hearted pilot crams her crashing on the shore. She will need no half-mast signal, minute-gun, or rocketflare, When the cry for help goes seaward, she will find her servants there.
Сторінка 136 - There were two men in one city ; the one rich, and the other poor. The rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds: but the poor man had nothing, save one little ewe lamb, which he had bought and nourished up : and it grew up together with him, and with his children; it did eat of his own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bosom, and was unto him...
Сторінка 188 - Is the torrent in spate? He must ford it or swim. Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb by the cliff. Does the tempest cry "Halt"? What are tempests to him? The Service admits not a "but
Сторінка 281 - On the siltPalace, byre, hovel — poverty and pride — Side by side; And, above the packed and pestilential town, Death looked down. But the Rulers in that City by the Sea Turned to flee— Fled, with each returning spring-tide from its ills To the Hills. From the clammy fogs of morning, from the blaze Of the days, From the sickness of the noontide, from the heat, Beat retreat; For the country from Peshawar to Ceylon Was their own.
Сторінка 124 - PRELUDE / have eaten your bread and salt, I have drunk your water and wine ; The deaths ye died I have watched beside, And the lives ye led were mine. Was there aught that I did not share In vigil or toil or ease — One joy or woe that I did not know, Dear hearts across the seas ? I have written the tale of our life For a sheltered people' s mirth, In jesting guise — but ye are wise, And ye know what the jest is worth...
Сторінка 242 - High noon behind the tamarisks — the sun is hot above us — As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. They will drink our healths at dinner — those who tell us how they love us, And forget us till another year be gone!
Сторінка 126 - Cheops' pyramid Was that the contractor did Cheops out of several millions? Or that Joseph's sudden rise To Comptroller of Supplies Was a fraud of monstrous size On King Pharaoh's swart Civilians?
Сторінка 174 - PAGETT, MP, was a liar, and a fluent liar therewith,— He spoke of the heat of India as the "Asian Solar Myth"; Came on a four months' visit, to "study the East,
Сторінка 58 - Such greeting as should come from those Whose fathers faced the Sepoy hordes, Or served you in the Russian snows, And, dying, left their sons their swords. And some of us have fought for you Already in the Afghan pass...

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