The Stranger within my gate,

He may be true or kind,

But he does not talk my talk--

I cannot feel his mind

I see the face and the eyes and mouth

But not the soul behind.

The men of my own stock,

They may do ill or well,

But they tell the lies I am wonted to,

They are used to the lies I tell;

And we do not need interpreters

When we go to buy and sell.

The stranger within my gates

He may be evil or good

But I cannot tell what powers control,

What reasons sway his mood;

Nor when the Gods of his far-off land

Shall repossess his blood.

The men of my own stock,

Bitter bad they may be,

But at least they hear the things I hear

And see the things I see;

And whatever I think of them and their likes,

They think of the likes of me.

This was my father's belief,

And this is also mine:

Let all the corn be one sheaf

And the grapes be all one vine

Ere our children's teeth are set on edge

By bitter bread and wine.

- Rudyard Kipling

**Sajak ini dideklamasikan oleh Prof. Wan pada penghabisan syarahan umum beliau berkenaan Matlamat Pendidikan Tinggi di CASIS.