118
AN OLD SONG
And drops the reckless rider down
The rotten, rain-soaked khud;
So long as rumours from the North
Make loving wives afraid,
So long as Burma claims the boy,
And typhoid kills the maid,
If you love me as I love you
What knife can cut our love in two?
By all that lights our daily life
Or works our lifelong woe,
From Boileaugunge to Simla Downs
And those grim glades below,
Where heedless of the flying hoof
And clamour overhead,
Sleep, with the gray-langur for guard
Our very scornful Dead,
If you love me as I love you
All Earth is servant to us two!
By Docket, Billetdoux, and File,
By Mountain, Cliff, and Fir,
By Fan and Sword and Office-box,
