Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.
The Benefactors
A
And what the cultured word,
Against the undoctored incident
That actually occurred?
Through paint and prose and rhyme—
When Nature in her nakedness
Defeats us every time?
Nor easy meat and drink,
But bitter pinch of pain and fear
That makes creation think
Our god-like race began,
The longest arm, the sharpest tooth,
Gave man control of man;
And taught by pain and fear,
He learned to deal the far-off stone,
And poke the long, safe spear.
As means against a foe,
Till, bored by uniform defeat,
Some genius built the bow.
As old-time tooth and nail;
Till, spurred anew by fear and pain,
Man fashioned coats of mail.
And danger for the poor,
Till someone mixed a powder which
Redressed the scale once more.
With sword and bow and pike,
And, when the smoke of battle cleared,
All men were armed alike….
To please one crazy king,
Man, schooled in bulk by fear and pain,
Grew weary of the thing;
To enslave him past recall,
His tooth-stone-arrow-gun-shy mind
Turned and abolished all.
Whose head has grown too large,
Ends by destroying its own job
And works its own discharge;
Move all things from his path,
Trembles meanwhile at their decrees,
And deprecates their wrath!