In Error.

Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel. 
But, once in a way, there will come a day
When the colt must be taught to feel
The lash that falls, and the curb that galls, and the sting of the rowelled steel.

    The Conversion of Aurelian McGoggin.

It was not in the open fight
We threw away the sword,
But in the lonely watching
In the darkness by the ford. 
The waters lapped, the night-wind blew,
Full-armed the Fear was born and grew,
From panic in the night.

    The Rout of the White Hussars.

In the daytime, when she moved about me,
In the night, when she was sleeping at my side,—­
I was wearied, I was wearied of her presence. 
Day by day and night by night I grew to hate her—­
Would God that she or I had died!

    The Bronckhorst Divorce Case.

A stone’s throw out on either hand
From that well-ordered road we tread,
And all the world is wild and strange;
Churel and ghoul and Djinn and sprite
Shall bear us company to-night,
For we have reached the Oldest Land
Wherein the powers of Darkness range.

    In the House of Suddhoo.

To-night, God knows what thing shall tide,
The Earth is racked and fain—­
Expectant, sleepless, open-eyed;
And we, who from the Earth were made,
Thrill with our Mother’s pain.

    False Dawn.

Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide,
By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried;
Log in the reh-grass, hidden and lone;
Bund where the earth-rat’s mounds are strown;
Cave in the bank where the sly stream steals;
Aloe that stabs at the belly and heels,
Jump if you dare on a steed untried—­
Safer it is to go wide—­go wide!
Hark, from in front where the best men ride;—­
’Pull to the off, boys!  Wide!  Go wide!’

    Cupid’s Arrows.

He drank strong waters and his speech was coarse;
He purchased raiment and forbore to pay;
He stuck a trusting junior with a horse,
And won gymkhanas in a doubtful way. 
Then, ’twixt a vice and folly, turned aside
To do good deeds and straight to cloak them, lied.

    A Bank Fraud.

COLD IRON

’Gold is for the mistress—­silver for the maid—­ Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.’ ‘Good!’ said the Baron, sitting in his hall, ‘But Iron—­Cold Iron—­is master of them all.’

So he made rebellion ’gainst the King his liege, Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.  ‘Nay!’ said the cannoneer on the castle wall, ‘But Iron—­Cold Iron—­shall be master of you all!’

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid ’em all along! 
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron—­Cold Iron—­was master of it all.