I Seem To See A Shining One, With Eyes That Gleam, Now Fierce, Now Tender, Through Goggles That Reflect The Sun "With More Than Oriental Splendor"; I See Him Sitting On A Chest Heavy With Padlocks, Bolts, And Cording, Where Untold Treasures Hidden Rest, Treasures Of Untold Yarns He's Hoarding. Oh, Rudyard, Please Unlock That Chest! With Hope Deferred We're Growing Hoary; Or Was It All An Empty Jest Your Saying, "That's Another Story"?