| |
Best Poems by
great poets : Some of the greatest famous poems by
your favourite poets . . .
Pagett, M.P. by Rudyard Kipling
The toad beneath the harrow knows Exactly where eath tooth-point goes. The butterfly upon the road Preaches contentment to that toad.
Pagett, M.P., was a liar, and a fluent liar therewith -- He spoke of the heat of India as the 'Asian Solar Myth'; Came on a four months' visit, to 'study the East,' in November, And I got him to sign an agreement vowing to stay till September.
March came in with the koil. Pagett was cool and gay, Called me a 'bloated Brahmin,' talked of my 'princely pay.' March went out with the roses. 'Where is your heat?' said he. 'Coming,' said I to Pagett, 'Skittles!' said Pagett, M.P.
April began with the punkah, coolies, and prickly-heat, -- Pagett was dear to mosquitoes, sandflies found him a treat. He grew speckled and mumpy-hammered, I grieve to say, Aryan brothers who fanned him, in an illiberal way.
May set in with a dust-storm, -- Pagett went down with the sun. All the delights of the season tickled him one by one. Imprimis -- ten day's 'liver' -- due to his drinking beer; Later, a dose of fever --slight, but he called it severe.
Dysent'ry touched him in June, after the Chota Bursat -- Lowered his portly person -- made him yearn to depart. He didn't call me a 'Brahmin,' or 'bloated,' or 'overpaid,' But seemed to think it a wonder that any one stayed.
July was a trifle unhealthy, -- Pagett was ill with fear. 'Called it the 'Cholera Morbus,' hinted that life was dear. He babbled of 'Eastern Exile,' and mentioned his home with tears; But I haven't seen my children for close upon seven years.
We reached a hundred and twenty once in the Court at noon, (I've mentioned Pagett was portly) Pagett, went off in a swoon. That was an end to the business; Pagett, the perjured, fled With a practical, working knowledge of 'Solar Myths' in his head.
And I laughed as I drove from the station, but the mirth died out on my lips As I thought of the fools like Pagett who write of their 'Eastern trips,' And the sneers of the traveled idiots who duly misgovern the land, And I prayed to the Lord to deliver another one into my hand.
|
|