Rudyard Kipling

To James Whitcomb Riley

                 1890

On Receiving a Copy of His Rhymes for Children

Your trail runs to the westward,
  And mine to my own place;
There is water between our lodges,
  And I have not seen your face.

But since I have read your verses
  'Tis easy to  guess the rest,--
Because in the hearts of the children
  There is neither East nor West.

Born to a thousand fortunes
  Of good or evil hap,
Once they were kings together,
  Throned in a mother's lap.

Surely they know that secret--
  Yellow and black and white--
When they meet as kings together
  In innocent dreams at night.

By a moon they all can play with--
  Grubby and grimed and unshod,
Very happy together,
  And very near to God.

Your trail runs to the westward,
  And mine to my own place:
There is water between our lodges,
  And you cannot see my face.--

And that is well--for crying
  Should neither be written nor seen,
But if I call you Smoke-in-the-Eyes,
 I know you will know what I mean.