Part 1 — THE SOLDIER

Then on a horse which bit and bucked (The half-broke four-year-old Marauder) Came Minton-Price of th' Afghan border, Lean, puckered, yellowed, knotted, scarred, Tough as a hide-rope twisted hard, Tense tiger-sinew knit to bone. Strange-wayed from having lived alone With Kafir, Afghan and Beloosh In stations frozen in the Koosh Where nothing but the bullet sings. His mind had conquered many things, Painting, mechanics, physics, law, White-hot, hand-beaten things to draw Self-hammered from his own soul's stithy, His speech was blacksmith-sparked and pithy. Danger had been his brother bred; The stones had often been his bed In bickers with the border-thieves.