Rudyard Kipling

You may find this image here

Rudyard Kipling was born on December 30, 1865, in Bombay (now Mumbai), India, to English parents. His childhood was marked by a deep connection to both India and Britain, though it was also defined by a series of personal challenges. When Kipling was just six years old, he and his sister were sent to England to live with foster parents, an experience that left him with a sense of isolation and longing. This experience of displacement and separation would shape his writing throughout his life. Kipling was deeply influenced by his upbringing in British colonial India, the English literary tradition, and the adventures of his own life.

Kipling’s early works were filled with stories and poems about British colonial life, including The Jungle Book, Kim, and Barrack-Room Ballads. These works are marked by their vivid storytelling, rich descriptions, and characters drawn from Kipling’s own observations and experiences. He often wrote with a sense of duty to both the empire and the individual, though his works reflect the complex and sometimes contradictory nature of British imperialism. His writings were heavily influenced by Victorian values and were often part of the larger imperialist movement of the time. As a result, Kipling became a prominent voice of British nationalism and imperial pride, which led to his winning the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1907.

Kipling’s connection to the military was central to both his personal life and his literary career. His father had worked in India as a civil engineer, and Kipling was deeply connected to the military through his writing about soldiers and the British Empire. As a young man, he traveled widely, reporting on military life and the British army. Kipling wrote extensively about the British military, including poems like The White Man’s Burden, which called for the expansion of empire and duty to the colonies.

However, Kipling’s military ties were not limited to his writing. In 1915, Kipling’s son, John Kipling, joined the British Army during World War I. John was a young man with a deep desire to serve, but tragically, he was killed in action at the Battle of Loos in 1915. Kipling was devastated by his son’s death, and this personal loss marked a major shift in Kipling’s perspective on war. His grief became a significant part of his later writing. Kipling’s work after the war began to reflect his more critical view of the costs of empire and the suffering of soldiers.

Although Kipling had long been an advocate of war and the British military, the loss of his son led him to question the consequences of war more deeply. Kipling wrote The Last of the Light Brigade and My Boy Jack, poems that grappled with the devastation caused by war and the heavy toll it took on families. The tragedy of losing his son turned Kipling’s view on the British military and imperialism into something more complex, as he began to understand the human cost of the conflicts that had shaped his earlier works.

Kipling’s legacy is one of both celebration and controversy. While his writings were immensely popular in his time and continue to be appreciated for their craftsmanship and storytelling, his views on empire, race, and war have made him a complex figure. His works are still read today, but they are often examined in the context of British imperialism, and many modern readers engage critically with his portrayal of colonial subjects and his support for the British Empire.

Kipling’s death on January 18, 1936, marked the end of an era for British literature, but his legacy continues in the cultural conversation about empire, duty, and war. Despite the changing times, Kipling’s works remain central to discussions of British literature, imperialism, and the effects of war. His contributions to literature, particularly in terms of his poetic works and storytelling, continue to influence writers and poets, even as his legacy remains a subject of debate.

You may learn more at the Poetry Foundation and Wikipedia.

Barrack-Room Ballads

Rudyard Kipling
When ‘Omer smote ‘is bloomin’ lyre,

He’d ‘eard men sing by land an’ sea;
An’ what he thought ‘e might require,

Soldier An’ Sailor Too

Rudyard Kipling
As I was spittin’ into the Ditch aboard o’ the Crocodile,

I seed a man on a man-o’-war got up in the Reg’lars’ style.
‘E was scrapin’ the paint from off of ‘er plates,

A Legend of Truth

Rudyard Kipling
Once on a time, the ancient legends tell,

Truth, rising from the bottom of her well,
Looked on the world, but, hearing how it lied,

Gentleman-Rankers

Rudyard Kipling
To the legion of the lost ones, to the cohort of the damned,

To my brethren in their sorrow overseas,
Sings a gentleman of England cleanly bred, machinely crammed,

Back To The Army Again

Rudyard Kipling
I’m ‘ere in a ticky ulster an’ a broken billycock ‘at,

A-layin’ on to the sergeant I don’t know a gun from a bat;
My shirt’s doin’ duty for jacket, my sock’s stickin’ out o’ my boots,

The Shut-Eye Sentry

Rudyard Kipling
Sez the Junior Orderly Sergeant

To the Senior Orderly Man:
“Our Orderly Orf’cer’s ~hokee-mut~,

Hymn Before Action

Rudyard Kipling
The earth is full of anger,

The seas are dark with wrath,
The Nations in their harness

The Mine-Sweepers

Rudyard Kipling
Dawn off the Foreland — the young flood making

Jumbled and short and steep —
Black in the hollows and bright where it’s breaking —

Sappers

Rudyard Kipling
When the Waters were dried an’ the Earth did appear,

(“It’s all one,” says the Sapper),
The Lord He created the Engineer,

Old Fighting-Men

Rudyard Kipling
All the world over, nursing their scars,

Sit the old fighting-men broke in the wars—
Sit the old fighting-men, surly and grim

The Children

Rudyard Kipling
These were our children who died for our lands: they were dear in our sight.

We have only the memory left of their hometreasured sayings and laughter.
The price of our loss shall be paid to our hands, not another’s hereafter.

Tommy

Rudyard Kipling
I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’ beer,

The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,

The Ladies

Rudyard Kipling
I’ve taken my fun where I’ve found it;

I’ve rogued an’ I’ve ranged in my time;
I’ve ‘ad my pickin’ o’ sweet’earts,

The Outlaws

Rudyard Kipling
Through learned and laborious years

  They set themselves to find
Fresh terrors and undreamed-of fears

For All We Have and Are

Rudyard Kipling
For all we have and are,

For all our children’s fate,
Stand up and meet the war.

Gunga Din

Rudyard Kipling
You may talk o’ gin and beer

When you’re quartered safe out ‘ere,
An’ you’re sent to penny-fights an’ Aldershot it;

The Hyaenas

Rudyard Kipling
After the burial-parties leave

 And the baffled kites have fled;
The wise hyaenas come out at eve

Dirge Of The Dead Sisters

Rudyard Kipling
Who recalls the twilight and the ranged tents in order

(Violet peaks uplifted through the crystal evening air?)
And the clink of iron teacups and the piteous, noble laughter,

The Last of the Light Brigade

Rudyard Kipling
There were thirty million English who talked of England’s might,

There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night.
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;

Fuzzy-Wuzzy

Rudyard Kipling
We’ve fought with many men acrost the seas,

 An’ some of ’em was brave an’ some was not:
The Paythan an’ the Zulu an’ Burmese;

Boots

Rudyard Kipling
INFANTRY COLUMNS

We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa —

My Boy Jack

Rudyard Kipling
“HAVE you news of my boy Jack? ”

Not this tide.
“When d’you think that he’ll come back?”

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Discover more from War Poetry

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue reading