The drowsy carrier sways
 To the drowsy horses' tramp.
His axles winnow the sprays
Of the hedge where the rabbit plays
 In the light of his single lamp.

He hears a roar behind,
 A howl, a hoot, and a yell,
A headlight strikes him blind
And a stench o'erpowers the wind 
 Like a blast from the mouth of Hell.

He mends his swingle-bar,
 And loud his curses ring;
But a mother watching afar
Hears the hum of the doctor's car
 Like the beat of an angel's wing!

So, to the poet's mood,
 Motor or carrier's van,
Properly understood,
Are neither evil nor good,
 Ormuzd not Ahriman!


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add Contradictions to your own personal library.

Return to the Rudyard Kipling Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Covenent

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson