| |
(Foot-service to the Hills)
IN the name of the Empress of India, make way, | |
| O Lords of the Jungle, wherever you roam, | |
| The woods are astir at the close of the day— | |
| We exiles are waiting for letters from Home. | |
| Let the robber retreat—let the tiger turn tail— | 5 |
| In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail! | |
| |
| With a jingle of bells as the dusk gathers in, | |
| He turns to the footpath that heads up the hill— | |
| The bags on his back and a cloth round his chin, | |
| And, tucked in his waistbelt, the Post Office bill;— | 10 |
| “Despatched on this date, as received by the rail, | |
| “Per runner, two bags of the Overland Mail.” | |
| |
| Is the torrent in spate? He must ford it or swim. | |
| Has the rain wrecked the road? He must climb by the cliff. | |
| Does the tempest cry halt? What are tempests to him? | 15 |
| The service admits not a “but” or an “if.” | |
| While the breath’s in his mouth, he must bear without fail, | |
| In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail. | |
| |
| From aloe to rose-oak, from rose-oak to fir, | |
| From level to upland, from upland to crest, | 20 |
| From rice-field to rock-ridge, from rock-ridge to spur, | |
| Fly the soft-sandalled feet, strains the brawny, brown chest. | |
| From rail to ravine—to the peak from the vale— | |
| Up, up through the night goes the Overland Mail. | |
| |
| There’s a speck on the hillside, a dot on the road— | 25 |
| A jingle of bells on the footpath below— | |
| There’s a scuffle above in the monkey’s abode— | |
| The world is awake and the clouds are aglow. | |
| For the great Sun himself must attend to the hail:— | |
| “In the Name of the Empress, the Overland Mail!” | 30 |
| |
