Rudyard Kipling, b. 1865, d. January 18, 1936.

Kipling was wildly popular in his time; he’s now condemned as a moralist, a racist, and and imperialist. Nevertheless, his poetry and his stories are a delight, even if it’s sometimes necessary to suspend one’s cultural assumptions and attitudes. Eldest Daughter took a Victorian fantasty class last semester, and the class read Puck of Pook’s Hill, a tale of Puck, the Last of the Little People, who takes two children, Dan and Una, on a journey through a fantastical version of ancint British history. They hear stories from Puck and see the adventures of Picts and Danes, knights and Romans, and other more fairy-like folk.

THe following poem is from the book Puck of Pook’s Hill by Rudyard Kipling:

Of all the trees that grow so fair,
Old England to adorn,
Greater are none beneath the Sun,
Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.
Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs,
(All of a Midsummer morn!)
Surely we sing no little thing,
In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oak of the Clay lived many a day,
Or ever AEneas began.
Ash of the Loam was a lady at home,
When Brut was an outlaw man.
Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town
(From which was London born);
Witness hereby the ancientry
Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard-mould,
He breedeth a mighty bow.
Alder for shoes do wise men choose,
And beech for cups also.
But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,
And your shoes are clean outworn,
Back ye must speed for all that ye need,
To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth
Till every gust be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him
That anyway trusts her shade:
But whether a lad be sober or sad,
Or mellow with ale from the horn,
He will take no wrong when he lieth along
‘Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But–we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!
And we bring you news by word of mouth-
Good news for cattle and corn–
Now is the Sun come up from the South,
With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
(All of a Midsummer morn):
England shall bide till Judgment Tide,
By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!

In the story Puck swears “by Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.” If I were going to swear an oath by anything, I would enjoy that one. I do like the Victorians and Edwardians. There’s something solid and comforting and indestructible about even the most doubting and wavering of the Victorians, not that Kipling falls into the latter category. I’m sure that Tolkien and Lewis read their Kipling and were influenced by him. Doesn’t the tree poem remind you of Tolkien’s love of trees?

If you can get your hands on a copy, I would recommend a romp through Puck of Pook’s Hill. In the same class on Victorian fantasy, Eldest Daughter also enjoyed Thackeray’s The Ring and the Rose, also worth searching out.

Complete Collection of Poems by Rudyard Kipling.

Kipling’s Birthday, December 2004: “When Earth’s Picture Is Painted.”