As tho again, yea, even once again, We should rewelcome to our stewardship The rider with the loose-flung bridle-rein And chance-plucked twig for whip, The down-turned hat-brim, and the eyes beneath Alert, devouring, and the imperious hand Ordaining matters swiftly to bequeath Perfect the work he planned.
Return to the Rudyard Kipling library , or . . . Read the next poem; Ride To Kandahar