S8 4 RUDYARD KIPLING'S VERSE
Even as they sighed and turned to toil anew, The Seraph hailed them with observance due; And, after some fit talk of higher things, Touched tentative on mundane happenings. This they permitting, he, emboldened thus, Prolused of humankind promiscuous, And, since the large contention less avails Than instances observed, he told them tales Tales of the shop, the bed, the court, the street, Intimate, elemental, indiscreet: Occasions where Confusion smiting swift Piles jest on jest as snow-slides pile the drift Whence, one by one, beneath derisive skies, The victims' bare, bewildered heads arise Tales of the passing of the spirit, graced With humour blinding as the doom it faced Stark tales of ribaldy that broke aside To tears, by laughter swallowed ere they dried Tales to which neither grace nor gain accrue, But only (Allah be exalted!) true, And only, as the Seraph showed that night, Delighting to the limits of delight.
These he rehearsed with artful pause and halt, And such pretence of memory at fault, That soon the Four so well the bait was thrown- Came to his aid with memories of their own Matters dismissed long since as small or vain, Whereof the high significance had lain Hid, till the ungirt glosses made it plain. Then, as enlightenment came broad and fast, Each marvelled at his own oblivious past Until the Gates of Laughter opened wide The Four, with that bland Seraph at their side, While they recalled, compared, and amplified, In utter mirth forgot both Zeal and Pride!
