Rudyard Kipling: Selected Poems

Folio Poets

by Rudyard Kipling

"Now this is the Law of the Jungle—as old and as true as the sky;
And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper,
but the Wolf that shall break it must die."
— The Law of the Jungle

Kipling's innovative experiments with language—especially the dialects of the ordinary soldier—won him many admirers, and still stand out as truly modern today. Compiled here, this selection of his eclectic poetry shows the development of Kipling's talent, his deepening maturity and the growing somberness of his poetic vision. Ranging from early, exhilarating celebrations of British expansion overseas, including 'Mandalay' and 'Gunga Din', to the dignified and inspirational 'If' and the later, deeply moving 'Epitaphs of the War' —inspired by the death of Kipling's only son—it clearly illustrates the scope and originality of his work. It also offers a compelling insight into the Empire both at its peak and during its decline in the early years of the twentieth century.

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) is often regarded as the unofficial poet Laureate of the British Empire. Yet his writing reveals a ferociously independent figure, at times violently opposed to the dominant political and literary tendencies of his age. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907 "in consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas and remarkable talent for narration which characterize the creations of this world-famous author."

Genres: Poetry, Classics, 19th Century, British Literature, Nobel Prize

160 pages, Hardcover

First published June 1, 1993

About the author

Joseph Rudyard Kipling was a journalist, short-story writer, poet, and novelist.

Kipling's works of fiction include The Jungle Book (1894), Kim (1901), and many short stories, including The Man Who Would Be King (1888). His poems include Mandalay (1890), Gunga Din (1890), The Gods of the Copybook Headings (1919), The White Man's Burden (1899), and If— (1910). He is regarded as a major innovator in the art of the short story; his children's books are classics of children's literature; and one critic described his work as exhibiting "a versatile and luminous narrative gift".

Kipling was one of the most popular writers in the United Kingdom, in both prose and verse, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Henry James said: "Kipling strikes me personally as the most complete man of genius (as distinct from fine intelligence) that I have ever known." In 1907, at the age of 41, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first English-language writer to receive the prize, and its youngest recipient to date. He was also sounded out for the British Poet Laureateship and on several occasions for a knighthood, both of which he declined.

Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907 "in consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas and remarkable talent for narration which characterize the creations of this world-famous author."

Kipling kept writing until the early 1930s, but at a slower pace and with much less success than before. On the night of 12 January 1936, Kipling suffered a haemorrhage in his small intestine. He underwent surgery, but died less than a week later on 18 January 1936 at the age of 70 of a perforated duodenal ulcer. Kipling's death had in fact previously been incorrectly announced in a magazine, to which he wrote, "I've just read that I am dead. Don't forget to delete me from your list of subscribers."

Reviews

[Théo d'Or]

The Law of the Jungle

Now this is the Law of the Jungle. As old and as true as the sky ; And the Wolf that shall keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles the tree-trunk the Law runneth forward and back - For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.

Wash daily from nose-tip to tail-tip ; drink deeply but never too deep; And remember the night is for hunting, and forget not the day is for sleep .
The Jackal may follow the Tiger, but, Cub, when thy whiskers are grown, Remember the Wolf is a Hunter, go forth and get food of thine own.
Keep peace withe Lords of the Jungle - the Tiger , the Panther, and Bear. And trouble not Hathi the Silent, and mock not the Boar in his lair.
When Pack meets with Pack in the Jungle, and neither will go from the trail, Lie down till the leaders have spoken - it may be fair words shall prevail.
When ye fight with a Wolf of the Pack, ye must fight him alone and afar, Lest others take part in the quarrel, and the Pack be diminished by war.
The Lair of the Wolf is his refuge, and where he has made him his home, Not even the Head Wolf may enter, not even the Council may come.
If ye kill before midnight, be Silent, and wake not the woods with your bay, Lest ye frighten the deer from the crop, and your brothers go empty away.
Ye may kill for yourselves, and your mates, and your cubs as they need, and ye can ;
But kill not for pleasure of killing, and seven times never kill Man ! [...]

[GONZA · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Tommy"

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

"The Islanders"

NO DOUBT but ye are the People-your throne is above the King's.
Whoso speaks in your presence must say acceptable things:
Bowing the head in worship, bending the knee in fear-
Bringing the word well smoothen-such as a King should hear.

Fenced by your careful fathers, ringed by your leaden seas,
Long did ye wake in quiet and long lie down at ease;
Till Ye said of Strife, "What is it?" of the Sword, "It is far from our ken";
Till ye made a sport of your shrunken hosts and a toy of your armed men.
Ye stopped your ears to the warning-ye would neither look nor heed-
Ye set your leisure before their toil and your lusts above their need.
Because of your witless learning and your beasts of warren and chase,
Ye grudged your sons to their service and your fields for their camping-place.
Ye forced them glean in the highways the straw for the bricks they brought;
Ye forced them follow in byways the craft that ye never taught.
Ye hampered and hindered and crippled; ye thrust out of sight and away
Those that would serve you for honour and those that served you for pay.
Then were the judgments loosened; then was your shame revealed,
At the hands of a little people, few but apt in the field.
Yet ye were saved by a remnant (and your land's long-suffering star),
When your strong men cheered in their millions while your
striplings went to the war.
Sons of the sheltered city-unmade, unhandled, unmeet-
Ye pushed them raw to the battle as ye picked them raw from the street.
And what did ye look they should compass? Warcraft learned in a breath,
Knowledge unto occasion at the first far view of Death?
So? And ye train your horses and the dogs ye feed and prize?
How are the beasts more worthy than the souls, your sacrifice?
But ye said, "Their valour shall show them"; but ye said, "The end is close."
And ye sent them comfits and pictures to help them harry your foes:
And ye vaunted your fathomless power, and ye flaunted your iron pride,
Ere ye fawned on the Younger Nations for the men who could shoot and ride!
Then ye returned to your trinkets; then ye contented your souls
With the flannelled fools at the wicket or the muddied oafs at the goals.
Given to strong delusion, wholly believing a lie,
Ye saw that the land lay fenceless, and ye let the months go by
Waiting some easy wonder, hoping some saving sign-
Idle -openly idle-in the lee of the forespent Line.
Idle -except for your boasting-and what is your boasting worth
If ye grudge a year of service to the lordliest life on earth?
Ancient, effortless, ordered, cycle on cycle set,
Life so long untroubled, that ye who inherit forget
It was not made with the mountains, it is not one with the deep.
Men, not gods, devised it. Men, not gods, must keep.
Men, not children, servants, or kinsfolk called from afar,
But each man born in the Island broke to the matter of war.
Soberly and by custom taken and trained for the same,
Each man born in the Island entered at youth to the game-
As it were almost cricket, not to be mastered in haste,
But after trial and labour, by temperance, living chaste.
As it were almost cricket-as it were even your play,
Weighed and pondered and worshipped, and practised day and day.
So ye shall bide sure-guarded when the restless lightnings wake
In the womb of the blotting war-cloud, and the pallid nations quake.
So, at the haggard trumpets, instant your soul shall leap
Forthright, accoutred, accepting-alert from the wells of sleep.
So, at the threat ye shall summon-so at the need ye shall send
Men, not children or servants, tempered and taught to the end;
Cleansed of servile panic, slow to dread or despise,
Humble because of knowledge, mighty by sacrifice. . . .
But ye say, "It will mar our comfort." Ye say, "It will minish our trade."
Do ye wait for the spattered shrapnel ere ye learn how a gun is laid?
For the low, red glare to southward when the raided coast- towns burn?
(Light ye shall have on that lesson, but little time to learn.)
Will ye pitch some white pavilion, and lustily even the odds,
With nets and hoops and mallets, with rackets and bats and rods
Will the rabbit war with your foemen-the red deer horn them for hire?
Your kept cock-pheasant keep you?-he is master of many a shire,
Arid, aloof, incurious, unthinking, unthanking, gelt,
Will ye loose your schools to flout them till their brow-beat columns melt?
Will ye pray them or preach them, or print them, or ballot them back from your shore?
Will your workmen issue a mandate to bid them strike no more?
Will ye rise and dethrone your rulers? (Because ye were idle both?
Pride by Insolence chastened? Indolence purged by Sloth?)
No doubt but ye are the People; who shall make you afraid?
Also your gods are many; no doubt but your gods shall aid.
Idols of greasy altars built for the body's ease;
Proud little brazen Baals and talking fetishes;
Teraphs of sept and party and wise wood-pavement gods-
These shall come down to the battle and snatch you from under the rods?
From the gusty, flickering gun-roll with viewless salvoes rent,
And the pitted hail of the bullets that tell not whence they were sent.
When ye are ringed as with iron, when ye are scourged as with whips,
When the meat is yet in your belly, and the boast is yet on your lips;
When ye go forth at morning and the noon beholds you broke,
Ere ye lie down at even, your remnant, under the yoke?

No doubt but ye are the People-absolute, strong, and wise;
Whatever your heart has desired ye have not withheld from your eyes.
On your own heads, in your own hands, the sin and the caving lies!

[Joseph Fountain · Rating 4 out of 5]

My review of: Rudyard Kipling: Selected Poems

[Alyssa Chartier · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not great

[David Sterritt]

Seen through a presentist lens, Rudyard Kipling’s work is fraught with so many problems - of colonialism, imperialism, racism, etc., etc. - that it might seem irredeemable. But reading Peter Keating’s collection of selected poems has been really interesting ; yes, there’s some cringe-worthy stuff, but there’s also tremendous energy, pulsing rhythms, a marvelous sense of rhyme, and occasional glimpses of ideas and sensibilities that can actually be called progressive. A mixed but fascinating experience.

[Anastasia Artemis Bailey · Rating 5 out of 5]

A staple for poetry lovers and Kipling fans. A wonderful selection of short and long poems that show Kipling’s morality, storytelling, and taste for exotic cultures. I especially loved his jungle/animal poems.

[Matthew Dai]

The book explores the Imperialistic ideas which Kipling had on the world and how it shaped his poems

[Matthew · Rating 4 out of 5]

I studied early twentieth century English literature at university, and it was interesting to see which writers were left off the curriculum. Thanks to their dismissal by leading Modernist writer Virginia Woolf, John Galsworthy, Arnold Bennett and the social novels of H G Wells were forbidden. W Somerset Maugham also failed to make the cut.

Perhaps the most famous omission though was Rudyard Kipling. Kipling is an easy writer to dismiss. He was a member of the establishment and not a great innovator. His prose ran to children’s books and adventure stories, neither of which are popular with academics. His poetry is felt to be shallow, perhaps not even real poetry – merely verse.

Nonetheless Kipling continues to be held in great favour. Adults still enjoy reading Kim and Captains Courageous; children still take pleasure from the Just So Stories and The Jungle Book. Meanwhile ‘If-‘ topped the list of the BBC poll of the Nation’s Favourite Poems.

Of course Kipling made a deliberate appeal to popular sensibilities, and that is one reason why his work has had enduring appeal. He was also a very good storyteller – but was he a good poet?

While I cannot pretend that Kipling’s poetry has the intellectual heft of contemporaries such as T S Eliot or W B Yeats, his poems are not to be dismissed. They are far from being doggerel. Kipling has a gift for musical rhythm and cadences, and he chooses his words more carefully than the reader might imagine. Certainly there are some clichéd phrases, but we can find them in better-known poets too.

Kipling’s appeal is the same as Churchill’s rhetoric. It may be greeted with disdain by certain classes, but it is nicely-attuned to the tastes of a wider audience. He writes about the common man – the sailor, soldier or beggar.

Orwell felt that Kipling’s attempt to capture the speech patterns of working-class people was patronising. I don’t think so, but it is certainly limited. Surely not every working man from all over the country who lived in Kipling’s time was unable to master the letter ‘h’?

When she wasn’t criticising Galsworthy, Bennett and Wells, Virginia Woolf was being equally dismissive of Kipling. This might be intellectual snobbery of course, but the reason she gave was that his works had no appeal for women.

It is true that Kipling focuses on male subjects such as seafaring and warfare. Women play a background role here. Kipling was a sexist, but he does not come across as a woman-hater. When we look at his two most famous statements about women, they sound worse than they really were.

“A woman is only a woman, but a good cigar is a smoke.” Ouch! However Kipling was writing about a marital separation caused by a man’s smoking. In context he is humorously expressing the husband’s point of view, but not necessarily endorsing it.

“The female of the species is more deadly than the male.” This certainly reeks of misogyny, even down to referring to women as females. For men of fragile ego, I will add for balance that he calls men males.

What Kipling means here is that women are more deadly in protection of their children and partners, which may or may not be commendable. Kipling does add that this is a reason women should not hold office. As I say, sexist, but not necessarily misogynistic.

This leads nicely into a discussion of the most famous Kipling poem. Haters of ‘If-‘ dislike its perceived platitudes or unrealistic demands on human behaviour. I don’t think the phrases are all that platitudinous. They are certainly sensible, if not especially wise.

Is the message of the poem any more slight than that of ‘The Waste Land’ or ‘The Second Coming’? I think not. Of course those are better poems than ‘If-‘ because great poetry is not just about what a poet says, but how s/he says it.

Viewed together, Kipling may seem to be asking a bit much of anyone, but his point is that these qualities are conditional, hence the long sentence that carries so many clauses. He is not expecting everyone to have all these qualities; he is outlining some qualities he likes.

Nonetheless the qualities ultimately prove to be masculine ones: “…And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son”. Can women not possess these qualities? I don’t think Kipling is saying this, though I would not put it past him.

We should see the poem as being a conversation between an older and a younger man and that is why gender is brought into it at the end. Actually Kipling’s list of admirable qualities is a welcome tonic to toxic masculinity. Not losing your temper, trusting yourself, patience, not telling lies, not hating others, stoicism, resilience, courage, humility etc – what’s not to like here?

I can say this much in defence of Kipling, but nonetheless I would still say his poetry lacks greatness. There is a skill and artistry in his verse, but it does not equal that of the best poets. The poems are lively but lack any great beauty.

In the introduction to my book, an argument is made that Kipling was a modernist. I’m sorry, but not every writer that a critic likes is a secret modernist. Nor do they need to be. Modernism was something of a short-lived fad in truth. At its worst, it slipped into self-parody, but at its best it was stimulating and challenging, and helped to refresh literature.

Still while Kipling was not part of this ephemeral movement, his works have dated less well than the best modernist writers. His poems are stunted by limited subject matter. Kipling’s concerns are war, colonialism and working on a ship. While he often deviates from these concerns, he mostly comes back to them again and again.

In Kipling’s prose, we are aware of his conservative views, but the exciting or amusing stories divert us from judging Kipling too harshly. In short concentrated poems, Kipling’s opinions are more problematic.

Kipling defends all that was worst about British life. He writes about war, including World War One, but he has none of the bitterness of the more famous war poets. As far as Kipling is concerned, wars are just, even colonial ones.

All that Kipling is concerned about is that the demobbed soldier is treated fairly when he becomes a civilian. Yet even here I wonder if Kipling had any grievance based on actual events, or just thought so in principle. His poem about impoverished members of the Light Brigade appealing to Tennyson to write another poem to promote their cause would be a touching tribute to Tennyson’s generosity – if it wasn’t for the fact that it is a total fabrication, and Tennyson never wrote any follow-up to his famous work.

Regarding the British Empire, Kipling only speaks in favour. He is bitter about Irish dissidents. He is prejudiced against other races. The most admirable native is Gunga-Din, who serves the British loyally, even while he is mistreated by them. In fairness to Kipling, he acknowledges that Gunga-Din is a better man than his colonialist oppressors, but only on condition that he is their faithful servant.

Kipling writes of the ‘White Man’s Burden’ in having to maintain the Empire despite the sullenness of the subjugated natives. He is not capable of understanding why the natives would feel sullen rather than grateful.

This does lead to a certain smallness in Kipling, which sits curiously with the global backdrop to his poetry. Nonetheless Kipling was sincere to his beliefs, however appalling they might have been. At his best he achieves a warmth and humanity, and his poetry is energetic and skilful, even if it falls short of genius.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

KIPLING BY PETER KEATING

This is about Kipling’s style of poetry and the background to it as with all on the 1900 books were the goggle of the day then there were the classics either you read them at school or university he enjoyed the rhyming verse’s the play on words the mock heroics if the themes he read pope, shelly, Keats, he penned tow romantic & one on pope we now call that (gothic) he loved the parody of Tennyson’s mort’s d’ Arthur, as I was told at school in the 1960…. You are either good at English or Arithmetic’s , letters or numbers then there were then conterminous rejections for every writer but now there is fifty shades of self-publishing … these days he cites “ cicely” poems, Emerson, Longfellow, in a “Yankee dialect” the author of the book is Peter Keating, a reader in English literature at Edinburgh uni until 1990 he recites the poetry of some classical, Latin, and various other dialects he states he can detect the styles of others who no doubt were inspired by other as he was, and I was. Kipling while in India did books on nursery-rhymes and the story of Kim.. originated from there and his most admired most Poe “IF”… as the Sunday times said linking periods of culture with social change

[Josh Boardman · Rating 3 out of 5]

What seems to be a great selection of Kipling poems, from the annoying Scottish dialectical pieces to Jungle Book pieces to his more interesting (to me) meditations on England's land and flora. He's a real master of meter and rhyme, that's for certain, but methinks he won't be remembered alongside, for instance, Shelley or Yeats or Eliot. Still good, fun poetry, though, perfect for reading aloud while drunk with friends.

[Andrew John · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is wonderfully full of hidden gems. There is of course "If" which I love. However, there are so many others which will either make you laugh or cry.

I am not much of a reader of poetry, but this has sold me. Bravo Mr. Kipling.

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ah! What avails the classic bent
And what the cultured word,
Against the undoctored incident
That actually occurred?

And what is Art whereto we press
Through paint and prose and rhyme—
When Nature in her nakedness
Defeats us every time?

[Sigrid Fry-Revere · Rating 2 out of 5]

Some were good, but most were too bombastic for me.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

A number of notable poems but scattered and almost overwhelmed by the outdated ones.

[Bonni · Rating 4 out of 5]

A nice poetry hit. I like Kipling’s rhythm and rhyme and the way his poems make me think, but not too hard.

[Nancy Hollingsworth · Rating 4 out of 5]

The rhythm.

[Марија Андреева · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nice selection of poems, very interesting lyrics аnd storytelling in а wаy.

[Hayley Owens · Rating 5 out of 5]

[This should've been added a long time ago.]
I do love Kipling's poetry. I mean, a lot. For serious and for fun. And putting aside that White Man's Burden shit you had to read in school, the rest of it? Golden.

[Meg · Rating 3 out of 5]

Kipling has a wonderful authenticity to his poetry - he can tell it as it is without sacrificing colorful storytelling or rhythmic flow. And some of the poetry, when he lets it, reveals deeper truths worth reading.

[Umma]

Kipling's poems have a source of truth to them...