Untimely

A poem by Rudyard Kipling

Nothing in life has been made by man for man's using
But it was shown long since to man in ages
Lost as the name of the maker of it,
Who received oppression and shame for his wages,
Hate, avoidance, and scorn in his daily dealings,
Until he perished, wholly confounded

More to be pitied than he are the wise
Souls which foresaw the evil of loosing
Knowledge or Art before time, and aborted
Noble devices and deep-wrought healings,
Lest offence should arise.

Heaven delivers on earth the Hour that cannot be thwarted,
Neither advanced, at the price of a world nor a soul, and its Prophet
Comes through the blood of the vanguards who dreamed, too soon, it had sounded.

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