Page:The writings in prose and verse of Rudyard Kipling (IA cu31924057346631).pdf/28



we have it, scratched and scored
 * By the tides of an impotent human soul;

He that wrote it died abhorred,
 * And scarcely the bell had ceased to toll

Ere they crowded together over the cake,
 * Ferret-eyed women and keen-faced men,

In the putrid well of his life to slake
 * Their viperous throats, and wonder when

The lawyer was coming to give their share&mdash;
 * Waiting like beasts behind the bars

For the meat apportioned,&mdash;and all the air
 * Thick with the hissing whisper that mars

Fame of the living and fame of the dead.
 * See that woman, her yellow teeth

Pressing the lip's thin line of red;
 * Mark the struggle that lies beneath

The outer surface of weepers and veils!
 * She was his housekeeper, people muttered

Hints, half-hinting, and half-heard tales,
 * Poison tipping each syllable uttered.

Charity, this! And the dead man lies
 * Still? Impossible! He must stir,

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