Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
Study of an Elevation, in Indian Ink
P
Stands at the top of the tree;
And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led
To the hoisting of Potiphar G.
Is seven years junior to Me;
Each bridge that he makes either buckles or breaks,
And his work is as rough as he.
Is coarse as a chimpanzee;
And I can’t understand why you gave him your hand,
Lovely Mehitabel Lee.
Is dear to the Powers that Be;
For They bow and They smile in an affable style,
Which is seldom accorded to Me.
Is certain as certain can be
Of a highly paid post which is claimed by a host
Of seniors—including Me.
Greatly inferior to Me.
What is the spell that you manage so well,
Commonplace Potiphar G.?
Let me inquire of thee,
Should I have riz to what Potiphar is,
Hadst thou been mated to Me?