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Rudyard Kipling - The ReformersRudyard Kipling - The Reformers
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Not in the camp his victory lies  Or triumph in the market-place, Who is his Nation`s sacrifice To turn the judgement from his race. Happy is he who, bred and taught  By sleek, sufficing Circumstance — Whose Gospel was the apparelled thought,  Whose Gods were Luxury and Chance — Seese, on the threshold of his days,  The old life shrivel like a scroll, And to unheralded dismays  Submits his body and his soul; The fatted shows wherein he stood  Foregoing, and the idiot pride, That he may prove with his own blood  All that his easy sires denied — Ultimate issues, primal springs,  Demands, abasements, penalties — The imperishable plinth of things  Seen and unseen, that touch our peace. For, though ensnaring ritual dim  His vision through the after-years, Yet virtue shall go out of him — Example profiting his peers. With great things charged he shall not hold  Aloof till great occasion rise, But serve, full-harnessed, as of old,  The Days that are the Destinies. He shall forswear and put away  The idols of his sheltered house; And to Necessity shall pay  Unflinching tribute of his vows. He shall not plead another`s act,  Nor bind him in another`s oath To weigh the Word above the Fact,  Or make or take excuse for sloth. The yoke he bore shall press him still,  And, long-ingrained effort goad To find, to fashion, and fulfil  The cleaner life, the sterner code. Not in the camp his victory lies —  The world (unheeding his return) Shall see it in his children`s eyes  And from his grandson`s lips shall learn!
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