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“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”


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Framed