<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510816" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lord Roberts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1914</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>He passed in the very battle-smoke<br>Of the war that he had descried.<br>Three hundred mile of cannon spoke<br>When the Master-Gunner died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He passed to the very sound of the guns;<br>But, before his eye grew dim,<br>He had seen the faces of the sons<br>Whose sires had served with him,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He had touched their sword-hilts and greeted<br>With the old sure word of praise;<br>And there was virtue in touch and speech<br>As it had been in old days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So he dismissed them and took his rest,<br>And the steadfast spirit went forth<br>Between the adoring East and West<br>And the tireless guns of the North.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Clean, simple, valiant, well-beloved,<br>Flawless in faith and fame,<br>Whom neither ease nor honours moved<br>An hair's-breadth from his aim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Never again the war-wise face,<br>The weighed and urgent word<br>That pleaded in the market-place-<br>Pleaded and was not heard!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet from his life a new life springs<br>Through all the hosts to come,<br>And Glory is the least of things<br>That follow this man home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rudyard+Kipling">Rudyard Kipling</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510816" data-title="Lord Roberts de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="1914 He passed in the very battle-smoke Of the war that he had descried. Three hundred mile of cannon spoke When the Master-Gunner died. He passed to the very sound of the guns; But, before his eye grew dim, He had seen the faces of the sons Wh..."></div> </div> </div>

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