RUDYARD KIPLING
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew The old lost road through the woods . . But there is no road through the woods.
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��poo Recessional
<OD of our fathers, known of old Lord of our far-flung battle-line Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget' The tumult and the shouting dies
The captains and the kings depart Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet Lest we forget, lest we forget'
Far-calPd our navies melt away
On dune and headland sinks the fire
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre'
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget'
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe
Such boasting as the Gentiles use
Or lesser breeds without the Law
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget, lest we forget!
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