Volume 100 — TO MR. RUDYARD KIPLING.
Reading edition
["Every minute of my time during 1891 is already mortgaged. In 1892 you may count upon me."—Mr. KIPLING to Magazine Editor, who wished to secure him as a Contributor.]
Oh, happy man! for whom this world of ours Is but a ceaseless round of milk and honey, Who use your wondrous word-compelling powers For us in telling tales (and making money), How you must laugh to rake the dollars in, The publishers—how badly you must bleed them; Your tales are good, but yet, ere you begin On more, just think of us who've got to read them. It frightens us to hear your Ninety-One Is mortgaged—for the prospect's not inviting, To think of all that may and will be done, If, through the present year you ne'er cease writing! With bated breath we ask, and humble mien— We realise how far we come behind you— That you will leave one remnant Magazine In which we may be sure we shall not find you. Then will your RUDYARD name with joy be hailed, And yours will be a never-fading glory, If, when you're asked to write a Light that Failed, You merely tell us, "That's another story."