Brace yourself for a long but necessary disclaimer. I wrote this for an assignment in English.
I do not own Rudyard Kipling's poems which are all over the internet if you'd like to read them. There are two that are recited here (not completely, of course): "If" and "The Wishing-Caps," and there is a strong reference to Kipling's "M'Andrew's Hymn" which, in the novel, is the poem that Ampleforth struggles with though it is not mentioned. Obviously, I don't own 1984 and characters and anything associated with such but still, I feel disclaimer's are important. Carry on.
If you can dream – and not make dreams your master…
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster…
Ampleforth woke with a jolt to find Kipling lines dribbled from his lips. His mind frantically flitted between the words he had just mumbled and all possible rhymes with "rod" other than "God." He had done this at least a hundred times since the poem was assigned to him for the definitive edition of the poems of Kipling and had barely gone past five lines when he stumbled upon this dilemma. However – there are only twelve of words that rhyme with "rod," and only "God" makes sense in Kipling's poem, "M'Andrew's Hymn." Having racked his brains for weeks, he consequently failed to show up at work but it was not until the night before that he decided to leave the line as it was. In the darkness he groped for the ready bottle of Victory Gin - his only companion during his absence from work as well as his favorite stanza from Kipling's "The Wishing-Caps." "Life's all getting and giving. I've only myself to give. What shall I do for a living?" He recited and took a gulp. He particularly loved this piece because it was the only stanza that did not need any significant change and he recited it in its original glory. He loved his job, but unlike other Party members he did not love it because he loved the Party.
He loved his job because he loved poetry.
But he knew as soon as he took the opportunity in Minitrue, it was the end for him. The beauty and nature of poetry would be his death. "I've only one life to live," he mumbled despite the influence of Victory Gin slowly burning inside him.
"End it?"
Ampleforth dropped the bottle shattering into a dozen shards as the lukewarm liquid slithered unnoticeably through the cracks of the floor. He merely stared, mouth partially open, with amazement and dread at a glowing and fully functional telescreen. It had recited the next line. The thought of running occurred but an impulse replaced the instinct.
"I'll not find another," Ampleforth said as held his breath; his vision started to get blurry. He was not sure if it was an effect of the gin or fear.
"Spend it?" The telescreen readily recited the line in perfect meter and tone. In turn, Ampleforth responded similarly.
"But how shall I best?"
"Sure the wise plan is to live like a man-"
"And Luck may look after the rest!" Ampleforth finished. Tears swelled in his eyes as he began to chuckle hysterically and a deafening crash through the doors and walls of his quarters pierced the poem and his sensitive ears. The storm of heavy boots and heavy men reverberated throughout the room and seemed to shake the floor. The moment had come! His legs went numb and gave way beneath him. Soon Ampleforth was being dragged away through the shards and debris of the fateful intrusion. A heavy faced man stood by what was once the doorway.
"Kipling," he said thoughtfully. He continued, "You were doing extremely well with the definitive works of Kipling, that is, until you reached lines three and four of 'M'Andrew's Hymn,' I see." Ampleforth nodded vigorously through tears and a crooked smile. "God" was the only rhyme.