Behold “The Lyrics of the King”!
As though a crown on those who sing
Could make their music sweeter!
To-day we’ll choose the better part—
The gentle music of the heart
That masters rhyme and metre.
THE SONG OF TEMBINOKA, KING OF APEMAMA
TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
Sing, my warriors, sing! men of the sharklike race!
Sing of the poet who came and greeted us face to face.
He from the cold, gray North, I, in these tropic isles,
Meet as brothers and bards, with eloquent songs and smiles—
Meet as brothers, though singing words that are strange and proud.
Pale and wan is his face, while mine is a thunder-cloud;
But the heart of a man is hidden by neither language nor skin—
To love as a man and a brother maketh the whole world kin.
The tales that he tells are of heroes who fought like braves to the death—
Bone of our bone are these heroes, the very breath of our breath!
Then sing, my warriors, sing! men of the sharklike race!
Sing of the poet who came and greeted us face to face!
IN THE MANNER OF KIPLING
“Show me the face of Truth,” the Sahib said—
“Show me its beauty, before I’m dead!”
“Look!” said the priest, “with unflinching eyes;
This is the World, and not Paradise.
Look! It is wicked, and cruel, and strong, and wise!”
FOR A NOVEL OF HALL CAINE’S
AFTER KIPLING
He sits in a sea-green grotto with a bucket of lurid paint,
And draws the Thing as it isn’t for the God of Things as they ain’t!