The Years Between
Rudyard Kipling




Rudyard Kipling

The Years Between





DEDICATION

TO THE SEVEN WATCHMEN


		Seven Watchmen sitting in a tower,
		Watching what had come upon mankind,
		Showed the Man the Glory and the Power,
		And bade him shape the Kingdom to his mind.
		'All things on Earth your will shall win you'
		('Twas so their counsel ran)
		'But the Kingdom – the Kingdom is within you,'
		Said the Man's own mind to the Man.
		For time, and some time —
		As it was in the bitter years before,
		So it shall be in the over-sweetened hour —
		That a man's mind is wont to tell him more
		Than Seven Watchmen sitting in a tower.




THE ROWERS



1902


(When Germany proposed that England should help her in a naval demonstration to collect debts from Venezuela.)

		The banked oars fell an hundred strong,
		And backed and threshed and ground,
		But bitter was the rowers' song
		As they brought the war-boat round.

		They had no heart for the rally and roar
		That makes the whale-bath smoke —
		When the great blades cleave and hold and leave
		As one on the racing stroke.

		They sang: – 'What reckoning do you keep,
		And steer her by what star,
		If we come unscathed from the Southern deep
		To be wrecked on a Baltic bar?

		'Last night you swore our voyage was done,
		But seaward still we go,
		And you tell us now of a secret vow
		You have made with an open foe!

		'That we must lie off a lightless coast
		And haul and back and veer,
		At the will of the breed that have wronged us most
		For a year and a year and a year!

		'There was never a shame in Christendie
		They laid not to our door —
		And you say we must take the winter sea
		And sail with them once more?

		'Look South! The gale is scarce o'erpast
		That stripped and laid us down,
		When we stood forth but they stood fast
		And prayed to see us drown

		'Our dead they mocked are scarcely cold,
		Our wounds are bleeding yet —
		And you tell us now that our strength is sold
		To help them press for a debt'

		''Neath all the flags of all mankind
		That use upon the seas,
		Was there no other fleet to find
		That you strike hands with these?

		'Of evil times that men can choose
		On evil fate to fall,
		What brooding Judgment let you loose
		To pick the worst of all?

		'In sight of peace – from the Narrow Seas
		O'er half the world to run —
		With a cheated crew, to league anew
		With the Goth and the shameless Hun!'




THE VETERANS



[Written for the gathering of survivors of the Indian Mutiny, Albert Hall, 1907.]

		To-day, across our fathers' graves,
		The astonished years reveal
		The remnant of that desperate host
		Which cleansed our East with steel.

		Hail and farewell! We greet you here,
		With tears that none will scorn —
		O Keepers of the House of old,
		Or ever we were born!

		One service more we dare to ask —
		Pray for us, heroes, pray,
		That when Fate lays on us our task
		We do not shame the Day!




THE DECLARATION OF LONDON



JUNE 29, 1911


('On the re-assembling of Parliament after the Coronation, the Government have no intention of allowing their followers to vote according to their convictions on the Declaration of London, but insist on a strictly party vote' —Daily Papers.)

		We were all one heart and one race
		When the Abbey trumpets blew.
		For a moment's breathing-space
		We had forgotten you
		Now you return to your honoured place
		Panting to shame us anew.

		We have walked with the Ages dead —
		With our Past alive and ablaze,
		And you bid us pawn our honour for bread;
		This day of all the days!
		And you cannot wait till our guests are sped,
		Or last week's wreath decays?

		The light is still in our eyes
		Of Faith and Gentlehood,
		Of Service and Sacrifice,
		And it does not match our mood,
		To turn so soon to your treacheries
		That starve our land of her food.

		Our ears still carry the sound
		Of our once Imperial seas,
		Exultant after our King was crowned,
		Beneath the sun and the breeze.
		It is too early to have them bound
		Or sold at your decrees.

		Wait till the memory goes,
		Wait till the visions fade,
		We may betray in time, God knows,
		But we would not have it said,
		When you make report to our scornful foes,
		That we kissed as we betrayed!




ULSTER



1912


('Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works; their works are works of iniquity, and the act of violence is in their hands.' —Isaiah lix 6)

		The dark eleventh hour
		Draws on and sees us sold
		To every evil power
		We fought against of old.
		Rebellion, rapine, hate,
		Oppression, wrong and greed
		Are loosed to rule our fate,
		By England's act and deed.

		The Faith in which we stand,
		The laws we made and guard,
		Our honour, lives, and land
		Are given for reward
		To Murder done by night,
		To Treason taught by day,
		To folly, sloth, and spite,
		And we are thrust away.

		The blood our fathers spilt,
		Our love, our toils, our pains,
		Are counted us for guilt,
		And only bind our chains.
		Before an Empire's eyes
		The traitor claims his price.
		What need of further lies?
		We are the sacrifice.

		We asked no more than leave
		To reap where we had sown,
		Through good and ill to cleave
		To our own flag and throne.
		Now England's shot and steel
		Beneath that flag must show
		How loyal hearts should kneel
		To England's oldest foe.

		We know the war prepared
		On every peaceful home,
		We know the hells declared
		For such as serve not Rome —
		The terror, threats, and dread
		In market, hearth, and field —
		We know, when all is said,
		We perish if we yield.

		Believe, we dare not boast,
		Believe, we do not fear —
		We stand to pay the cost
		In all that men hold dear.
		What answer from the North?
		One Law, one Land, one Throne.
		If England drive us forth
		We shall not fall alone.




THE COVENANT



1914

		We thought we ranked above the chance of ill.
		Others might fall, not we, for we were wise —
		Merchants in freedom. So, of our free-will
		We let our servants drug our strength with lies.
		The pleasure and the poison had its way
		On us as on the meanest, till we learned
		That he who lies will steal, who steals will slay.
		Neither God's judgment nor man's heart was turned.

		Yet there remains His Mercy – to be sought
		Through wrath and peril till we cleanse the wrong
		By that last right which our forefathers claimed
		When their Law failed them and its stewards were bought.
		This is our cause. God help us, and make strong
		Our wills to meet Him later, unashamed!




FRANCE



1913

		Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all
		By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul;
		Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
		Terrible with strength that draws from her tireless soil;
		Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of man's mind,
		First to follow Truth and last to leave old Truths behind —
		France, beloved of every soul that loves its fellow-kind!

		Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side by side we lay
		Fretting in the womb of Rome to begin our fray.
		Ere men knew our tongues apart, our one task was known —
		Each must mould the other's fate as he wrought his own
		To this end we stirred mankind till all Earth was ours,
		Till our world-end strifes begat wayside thrones and powers —
		Puppets that we made or broke to bar the other's path —
		Necessary, outpost folk, hirelings of our wrath
		To this end we stormed the seas, tack for tack, and burst
		Through the doorways of new worlds, doubtful which was first,
		Hand on hilt (rememberest thou?) ready for the blow —
		Sure, whatever else we met, we should meet our foe.
		Spurred or balked at every stride by the other's strength,
		So we rode the ages down and every ocean's length!

		Where did you refrain from us or we refrain from you?
		Ask the wave that has not watched war between us two!
		Others held us for a while, but with weaker charms,
		These we quitted at the call for each other's arms.
		Eager toward the known delight, equally we strove —
		Each the other's mystery, terror, need, and love
		To each other's open court with our proofs we came.
		Where could we find honour else, or men to test our claim?
		From each other's throat we wrenched – valour's last reward —
		That extorted word of praise gasped 'twixt lunge and guard.
		In each other's cup we poured mingled blood and tears,
		Brutal joys, unmeasured hopes, intolerable fears —
		All that soiled or salted life for a thousand years.
		Proved beyond the need of proof, matched in every clime,
		O companion, we have lived greatly through all time!

		Yoked in knowledge and remorse, now we come to rest,
		Laughing at old villainies that Time has turned to jest,
		Pardoning old necessities no pardon can efface —
		That undying sin we shared in Rouen marketplace.
		Now we watch the new years shape, wondering if they hold
		Fiercer lightnings in their heart than we launched of old.
		Now we hear new voices rise, question, boast or gird,
		As we raged (rememberest thou?) when our crowds were stirred,
		Now we count new keels afloat, and new hosts on land,
		Massed like ours (rememberest thou?) when our strokes were planned.
		We were schooled for dear life's sake, to know each other's blade
		What can blood and iron make more than we have made?
		We have learned by keenest use to know each other's mind.
		What shall blood and iron loose that we cannot bind?
		We who swept each other's coast, sacked each other's home,
		Since the sword of Brennus clashed on the scales at Rome,
		Listen, count and close again, wheeling girth to girth,
		In the linked and steadfast guard set for peace on earth!

		Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all
		By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul;
		Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
		Terrible with strength renewed from a tireless soil;
		Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of man's mind,
		First to face the Truth and last to leave old Truths behind —
		France, beloved of every soul that loves or serves its kind!




'FOR ALL WE HAVE AND ARE'



1914

		For all we have and are,
		For all our children's fate,
		Stand up and take the war,
		The Hun is at the gate!
		Our world has passed away,
		In wantonness o'erthrown.
		There is nothing left to-day
		But steel and fire and stone!
		Though all we knew depart,
		The old Commandments stand: —
		'In courage keep your heart,
		In strength lift up your hand.'

		Once more we hear the word
		That sickened earth of old: —
		'No law except the Sword
		Unsheathed and uncontrolled.'
		Once more it knits mankind,
		Once more the nations go
		To meet and break and bind
		A crazed and driven foe.

		Comfort, content, delight,
		The ages' slow-bought gain,
		They shrivelled in a night.
		Only ourselves remain
		To face the naked days
		In silent fortitude,
		Through perils and dismays
		Renewed and re-renewed.
		Though all we made depart,
		The old Commandments stand; —
		'In patience keep your heart,
		In strength lift up your hand.'

		No easy hope or lies
		Shall bring us to our goal,
		But iron sacrifice
		Of body, will, and soul.
		There is but one task for all —
		One life for each to give
		Who stands if Freedom fall?
		Who dies if England live?




A SONG IN STORM


		Be well assured that on our side
		The abiding oceans fight,
		Though headlong wind and heaping tide
		Make us their sport to-night.
		By force of weather not of war
		In jeopardy we steer,
		Then welcome Fate's discourtesy
		Whereby it shall appear,
		How in all time of our distress,
		And our deliverance too,
		The game is more than the player of the game,
		And the ship is more than the crew.

		Out of the mist into the mirk
		The glimmering combers roll.
		Almost these mindless waters work
		As though they had a soul —
		Almost as though they leagued to whelm
		Our flag beneath their green
		Then welcome Fate's discourtesy
		Whereby it shall be seen, etc.

		Be well assured, though wave and wind
		Have weightier blows in store,
		That we who keep the watch assigned
		Must stand to it the more;
		And as our streaming bows rebuke
		Each billow's baulked career,
		Sing, welcome Fate's discourtesy
		Whereby it is made clear, etc.

		No matter though our deck be swept
		And masts and timber crack —
		We can make good all loss except
		The loss of turning back.
		So, 'twixt these Devils and our deep
		Let courteous trumpets sound,
		To welcome Fate's discourtesy
		Whereby it will be found, etc.

		Be well assured, though in our power
		Is nothing left to give
		But chance and place to meet the hour,
		And leave to strive to live,
		Till these dissolve our Order holds,
		Our Service binds us here.
		Then welcome Fate's discourtesy
		Whereby it is made clear,
		How in all time of our distress,
		And in our triumph too,
		The game is more than the player of the game,
		And the ship is more than the crew!




THE OUTLAWS



1914

		Through learned and laborious years
		They set themselves to find
		Fresh terrors and undreamed-of fears
		To heap upon mankind.

		All that they drew from Heaven above
		Or digged from earth beneath,
		They laid into their treasure-trove
		And arsenals of death:

		While, for well-weighed advantage sake,
		Ruler and ruled alike
		Built up the faith they meant to break
		When the fit hour should strike.

		They traded with the careless earth,
		And good return it gave;
		They plotted by their neighbour's hearth
		The means to make him slave.

		When all was ready to their hand
		They loosed their hidden sword,
		And utterly laid waste a land
		Their oath was pledged to guard.

		Coldly they went about to raise
		To life and make more dread
		Abominations of old days,
		That men believed were dead.

		They paid the price to reach their goal
		Across a world in flame;
		But their own hate slew their own soul
		Before that victory came.




ZION


		The Doorkeepers of Zion,
		They do not always stand
		In helmet and whole armour,
		With halberds in their hand,
		But, being sure of Zion,
		And all her mysteries,
		They rest awhile in Zion,
		Sit down and smile in Zion;
		Ay, even jest in Zion;
		In Zion, at their ease.

		The Gatekeepers of Baal,
		They dare not sit or lean,
		But fume and fret and posture
		And foam and curse between;
		For being bound to Baal,
		Whose sacrifice is vain.
		Their rest is scant with Baal,
		They glare and pant for Baal,
		They mouth and rant for Baal,
		For Baal in their pain!

		But we will go to Zion,
		By choice and not through dread,
		With these our present comrades
		And those our present dead;
		And, being free of Zion
		In both her fellowships,
		Sit down and sup in Zion —
		Stand up and drink in Zion
		Whatever cup in Zion
		Is offered to our lips!




LORD ROBERTS



1914

		He passed in the very battle-smoke
		Of the war that he had descried.
		Three hundred mile of cannon spoke
		When the Master-Gunner died.

		He passed to the very sound of the guns;
		But, before his eye grew dim,
		He had seen the faces of the sons
		Whose sires had served with him.

		He had touched their sword-hilts and greeted each
		With the old sure word of praise;
		And there was virtue in touch and speech
		As it had been in old days.

		So he dismissed them and took his rest,
		And the steadfast spirit went forth
		Between the adoring East and West
		And the tireless guns of the North.

		Clean, simple, valiant, well-beloved,
		Flawless in faith and fame,
		Whom neither ease nor honours moved
		An hair's-breadth from his aim.

		Never again the war-wise face,
		The weighed and urgent word
		That pleaded in the market-place —
		Pleaded and was not heard!

		Yet from his life a new life springs
		Through all the hosts to come,
		And Glory is the least of things
		That follow this man home.




THE QUESTION



1916

		Brethren, how shall it fare with me
		When the war is laid aside,
		If it be proven that I am he
		For whom a world has died?

		If it be proven that all my good,
		And the greater good I will make,
		Were purchased me by a multitude
		Who suffered for my sake?

		That I was delivered by mere mankind
		Vowed to one sacrifice,
		And not, as I hold them, battle-blind,
		But dying with open eyes?

		That they did not ask me to draw the sword
		When they stood to endure their lot —
		That they only looked to me for a word,
		And I answered I knew them not?

		If it be found, when the battle clears,
		Their death has set me free,
		Then how shall I live with myself through the years
		Which they have bought for me?

		Brethren, how must it fare with me,
		Or how am I justified,
		If it be proven that I am he
		For whom mankind has died,
		If it be proven that I am he
		Who being questioned denied?




THE CHOICE



1917


(THE AMERICAN SPIRIT SPEAKS)

		To the Judge of Right and Wrong
		With Whom fulfilment lies
		Our purpose and our power belong,
		Our faith and sacrifice.

		Let Freedom's Land rejoice!
		Our ancient bonds are riven;
		Once more to us the eternal choice
		Of Good or Ill is given.

		Not at a little cost,
		Hardly by prayer or tears,
		Shall we recover the road we lost
		In the drugged and doubting years.

		But, after the fires and the wrath,
		But, after searching and pain,
		His Mercy opens us a path
		To live with ourselves again.

		In the Gates of Death rejoice!
		We see and hold the good —
		Bear witness, Earth, we have made our choice
		With Freedom's brotherhood!

		Then praise the Lord Most High
		Whose Strength hath saved us whole,
		Who bade us choose that the Flesh should die
		And not the living Soul!

		To the God in Man displayed —
		Where e'er we see that Birth,
		Be love and understanding paid
		As never yet on earth!

		To the Spirit that moves in Man,
		On Whom all worlds depend,
		Be Glory since our world began
		And service to the end!




THE HOLY WAR



1917


('For here lay the excellent wisdom of him that built Mansoul that the walls could never be broken down nor hurt by the most mighty adverse potentate unless the townsmen gave consent thereto' – Bunyan's Holy War)

		A tinker out of Bedford,
		A vagrant oft in quod,
		A private under Fairfax,
		A minister of God —
		Two hundred years and thirty
		Ere Armageddon came
		His single hand portrayed it,
		And Bunyan was his name!

		He mapped, for those who follow,
		The world in which we are —
		'This famous town of Mansoul'
		That takes the Holy War
		Her true and traitor people,
		The gates along her wall,
		From Eye Gate unto Feel Gate,
		John Bunyan showed them all.

		All enemy divisions,
		Recruits of every class,
		And highly-screened positions
		For flame or poison-gas,
		The craft that we call modern,
		The crimes that we call new,
		John Bunyan had 'em typed and filed
		In Sixteen Eighty-two

		Likewise the Lords of Looseness
		That hamper faith and works,
		The Perseverance-Doubters,
		And Present-Comfort shirks,
		With brittle intellectuals
		Who crack beneath a strain —
		John Bunyan met that helpful set
		In Charles the Second's reign.

		Emmanuel's vanguard dying
		For right and not for rights,
		My Lord Apollyon lying
		To the State-kept Stockholmites,
		The Pope, the swithering Neutrals,
		The Kaiser and his Gott —
		Their rôles, their goals, their naked souls —
		He knew and drew the lot.

		Now he hath left his quarters,
		In Bunhill Fields to lie.
		The wisdom that he taught us
		Is proven prophecy —
		One watchword through our armies,
		One answer from our lands —
		'No dealings with Diabolus
		As long as Mansoul stands.

		A pedlar from a hovel,
		The lowest of the low,
		The father of the Novel,
		Salvation's first Defoe,
		Eight blinded generations
		Ere Armageddon came,
		He showed us how to meet it,
		And Bunyan was his name!




THE HOUSES



(A SONG OF THE DOMINIONS)


1898

		'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
		In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
		By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
		On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.

		For my house and thy house no help shall we find
		Save thy house and my house – kin cleaving to kind:
		If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon,
		If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.

		'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
		Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
		Since my house to thy house no greater can send
		Than thy house to my house – friend comforting friend;
		And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
		Than my house to thy house – King counselling King.




RUSSIA TO THE PACIFISTS


		God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,
		But – leave your sports a little while – the dead are borne this way!
		Armies dead and Cities dead, past all count or care.




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