“There’s no sense in going further—
it’s the edge of cultivation,”
So they said, and I believed it—
broke my land and sowed my crop—
Built my barns and strung my fences
in the little border station
Tucked away below the foothills
where the trails run out and stop:
Till a voice, as bad as Conscience,
rang interminable changes
On one everlasting Whisper
day and night repeated—so:
“Something hidden. Go and find it.
Go and look behind the Ranges—
“Something lost behind the Ranges.
Lost and waiting for you. Go!”
—Rudyard Kipling
“The Explorer”