(Rudyard Kipling)



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 oerpowers 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 doctors car
       Like the beat of an angels wing!

So, to the poets mood,
       Motor or carriers van,
Properly understood,
Are neither evil nor good
       Ormuzd not Ahriman!

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