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Rudyard Kipling - The KingRudyard Kipling - The King
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"Farewell, Romance!" the Cave-men said; "With bone well carved he went away, Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead, And jasper tips the spear to-day. Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance, And he with these.  Farewell, Romance!" "Farewell, Romance!" the Lake-folk sighed; "We lift the weight of flatling years; The caverns of the mountain-side Hold him who scorns our hutted piers. Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell, Guard ye his rest.  Romance, farewell!" "Farewell, Romance!" the Soldier spoke; "By sleight of sword we may not win, But scuffle `mid uncleanly smoke Of arquebus and culverin. Honour is lost, and none may tell Who paid good blows.  Romance, farewell!" "Farewell, Romance!" the Traders cried; Our keels ha` lain with every sea; The dull-returning wind and tide Heave up the wharf where we would be; The known and noted breezes swell Our trudging sail.  Romance, farewell!" "Good-bye, Romance!" the Skipper said; "He vanished with the coal we burn; Our dial marks full steam ahead, Our speed is timed to half a turn. Sure as the ferried barge we ply `Twixt port and port.  Romance, good-bye!" "Romance!" the season-tickets mourn, "~He~ never ran to catch his train, But passed with coach and guard and horn And left the local late again!" Confound Romance! . . And all unseen Romance brought up the nine-fifteen. His hand was on the lever laid, His oil-can soothed the worrying cranks, His whistle waked the snowbound grade, His fog-horn cut the reeking Banks; By dock and deep and mine and mill The Boy-god reckless laboured still! Robed, crowned and throned, he wove his spell, Where heart-blood beat or hearth-smoke curled, With unconsidered miracle, Hedged in a backward-gazing world; Then taught his chosen bard to say: "Our King was with us yesterday!"
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