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Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922.

The Rupaiyat of Omar Kal’vin

[Allowing for the difference ’twixt prose and rhymed exaggeration, this ought to reproduce the sense of what Sir A—— told the nation some time ago, when the Government struck from our incomes two per cent.]

NOW the New Year, reviving last Year’s Debt,

The Thoughtful Fisher casteth wide his Net;

So I with begging Dish and ready Tongue

Assail all Men for all that I can get.

Imports indeed are gone with all their Dues—

Lo! Salt a Lever that I dare not use,

Nor may I ask the Tillers in Bengal—

Surely my Kith and Kin will not refuse

Pay—and I promise by the Dust of Spring,

Retrenchment. If my promises can bring

Comfort, Ye have Them now a thousand-fold—

By Allah! I will promise Anything!

Indeed, indeed, Retrenchment oft before

I swore—but did I mean it when I swore?

And then, and then, We wandered to the Hills,

And so the Little Less became Much More.

Whether at Boileaugunge or Babylon,

I know not how the wretched Thing is done,

The Items of Receipt grow surely small;

The Items of Expense mount one by one.

I cannot help it. What have I to do

With One and Five, or Four, or Three, or Two?

Let Scribes spit Blood and Sulphur as they please,

Or Statesmen call me foolish—Heed not you.

Behold, I promise—Anything You will.

Behold, I greet you with an empty Till—

Ah! Fellow-Sinners, of your Charity

Seek not the Reason of the Dearth but fill.

For if I sinned and fell, where lies the Gain

Of Knowledge? Would it ease you of your Pain

To know the tangled Threads of Revenue,

I ravel deeper in a hopeless Skein?

“Who hath not Prudence”—what was it I said,

Of Her who paints Her Eyes and tires Her Head,

And jibes and mocks the People in the Street,

And fawns upon them for Her thriftless Bread?

Accursed is She of Eve’s daughters—She

Hath cast off Prudence, and Her End shall be

Destruction…. Brethren, of your Bounty grant

Some portion of your daily Bread to Me!