No More Learning

They walk beside Her 'rickshaw wheels--
None ever walk by mine;
And that's because I'm seventeen
And She is forty-nine.

She rides with half a dozen men,
(She calls them "boys" and "mashers")
I trot along the Mall alone;
My prettiest frocks and sashes
Don't help to fill my programme-card,
And vainly I repine
From ten to two A. M. Ah me!
Would I were forty-nine!

She calls me "darling," "pet," and "dear,"
And "sweet retiring maid. "
I'm always at the back, I know,
She puts me in the shade.

She introduces me to men,
"Cast" lovers, I opine,
For sixty takes to seventeen,
Nineteen to forty-nine.

But even She must older grow
And end Her dancing days,
She can't go on forever so
At concerts, balls and plays.

One ray of priceless hope I see
Before my footsteps shine;
Just think, that She'll be eighty-one
When I am forty-nine.




THE LOVERS' LITANY

Eyes of grey--a sodden quay,
Driving rain and falling tears,
As the steamer wears to sea
In a parting storm of cheers.

Sing, for Faith and Hope are high--
None so true as you and I--
Sing the Lovers' Litany:
"Love like ours can never die! "

Eyes of black--a throbbing keel,
Milky foam to left and right;
Whispered converse near the wheel
In the brilliant tropic night.

Cross that rules the Southern Sky!
Stars that sweep and wheel and fly,
Hear the Lovers' Litany:
Love like ours can never die!
"

Eyes of brown--a dusty plain
Split and parched with heat of June,
Flying hoof and tightened rein,
Hearts that beat the old, old tune.

Side by side the horses fly,
Frame we now the old reply
Of the Lovers' Litany:
"Love like ours can never die! "

Eyes of blue--the Simla Hills
Silvered with the moonlight hoar;
Pleading of the waltz that thrills,
Dies and echoes round Benmore.

"Mabel," "Officers," "Goodbye,"
Glamour, wine, and witchery--
On my soul's sincerity,
"Love like ours can never die! "

Maidens of your charity,
Pity my most luckless state.
Four times Cupid's debtor I--
Bankrupt in quadruplicate.

Yet, despite this evil case,
And a maiden showed me grace,
Four-and-forty times would I
Sing the Lovers' Litany:
"Love like ours can never die! "




A BALLAD OF BURIAL

("Saint @Proxed's ever was the Church for peace")

If down here I chance to die,
Solemnly I beg you take
All that is left of "I"
To the Hills for old sake's sake,
Pack me very thoroughly
In the ice that used to slake
Pegs I drank when I was dry--
This observe for old sake's sake.

To the railway station hie,
There a single ticket take
For Umballa--goods-train--I
Shall not mind delay or shake.

I shall rest contentedly
Spite of clamor coolies make;
Thus in state and dignity
Send me up for old sake's sake.

Next the sleepy Babu wake,
Book a Kalka van "for four. "
Few, I think, will care to make
Journeys with me any more
As they used to do of yore.

I shall need a "special" break--
Thing I never took before--
Get me one for old sake's sake.

After that--arrangements make.

No hotel will take me in,
And a bullock's back would break
'Neath the teak and leaden skin
Tonga ropes are frail and thin,
Or, did I a back-seat take,
In a tonga I might spin,--
Do your best for old sake's sake.

After that--your work is done.