Rudyard Kipling unburdened

I have long considered Rudyard Kipling one of the great poets of all time. His mastery of language, dialect, meter, rhyme, and truth combine with the fact that his poetry is transparent. It does not require someone’s explanation or interpretation; it’s accessible to anyone who can read English.

At the end of the 19th century and throughout the 20th, the pinnacle of artistic achievement was assigned to “artists” in various media (in paint, in poetry, in music and in sculpture) whose work needed an instruction manual. Obscurity was praised even as it hid a total lack of talent.

And most of all, Kipling was politically incorrect and the art world hated him for it. Good. You can often tell more about a man from the enemies and friends he makes than from the man himself. Barack Obama is a case in point.

Enjoy the article from the New Criterion.

Here’s my favorite Kipling poem. "Recessional," written for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee in 1897 and attended by all of Europe’s royalty. The last time they would ever get together until World War 1 ended their time in history.

Recessional
God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies;
The Captains and the Kings depart:
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget lest we forget!

Far-called, our navies melt away;
On dune and headland sinks the fire:
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe,
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard,
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding, calls not Thee to guard,
For frantic boast and foolish word
Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord!