 | Rudyard Kipling's Verse |  |
THE BEGINNER
(After he has been extemporising on an instrument not of his own invention)
(BROWNING)
Lo! what is this that I make—sudden, supreme, unrehearsed—This that my clutch in the crowd pressed at a venture has raised?
Forward and onward I sprang when I thought (as I ought) I reversed,
And a cab like a martagon opes and I sit in the wreckage dazed.
And someone is taking my name, and the driver is rending the air
With cries for my blood and my gold, and a snickering newsboy brings
My cap, wheel-pashed from the kerb. I must run her home for repair,
Where she leers with her bonnet awry—flat on the nether springs!
| Rudyard Kipling's Verse | |