Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
A Ballade of Jakko Hill
O
Since tiffin is not laid till three,
Below the upward path and strait
You climbed a year ago with me.
Love came upon us suddenly
And loosed—an idle hour to kill—
A headless, harmless armoury
That smote us both on Jakko Hill.
Through Time and to Eternity!
Ah Heaven! we would conquer Fate
With more than Godlike constancy!
I cut the date upon a tree—
Here stand the clumsy figures still:—
“10–7–85, A.D.”
Damp in the mists on Jakko Hill.
And until Death fidelity?
Whose horse is waiting at your gate?
Whose ’rickshaw-wheels ride over me?
No Saint’s, I swear; and—let me see
To-night what names your programme fill—
We drift asunder merrily,
As drifts the mist on Jakko Hill!
Has clean departed; and we see
’Twas Idleness we took for Fate
That bound light bonds on you and me.
Amen! Here ends the comedy
Where it began in all good will,
Since Love and Leave together flee
As driven mist on Jakko Hill!