<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=510876" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Russia to the Pacifists</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">1918</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, let nothing you dismay,<br>But--leave your sports a little while--the dead are borne<br>this way!<br>Armies dead and Cities dead, past all count or care.<br>God rest you, merry gentlemen, what portent see you there?<br>Singing:--Break ground for a wearied host<br>That have no ground to keep.<br>Give them the rest that they covet most . . .<br>And who shall next to sleep, good sirs,<br>In such a trench to sleep?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, but give us leave to pass.<br>We go to dig a nation's grave as great as England was.<br>For this Kingdom and this Glory and this Power and this Pride<br>Three hundred years it flourished--in three hundred days it<br>died.<br>Singing:--Pour oil for a frozen throng,<br>That lie about the ways.<br>Give them the warmth they have lacked so<br>long . . .<br>And what shall be next to blaze, good sirs,<br>On such a pyre to blaze?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God rest you, thoughtful gentlemen, and send your sleep is light!<br>Remains of this dominion no shadow, sound, or sight,<br>Except the sound of weeping and the sight of burning fire,<br>And the shadow of a people that is trampled into mire.<br>Singing:--Break bread for a starving folk<br>That perish in the field.<br>Give them their food as they take the yoke . . .<br>And who shall be next to yield, good sirs,<br>For such a bribe to yield?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">God rest you merry gentlemen, and keep you in your mirth!<br>Was ever Kingdom turned so soon to ashes, blood and earth?<br>'Twixt the summer and the snow-seeding-time and frost--<br>Arms and victual, hope and counsel, name and country lost!<br>Singing:--Let down by the foot and the head--<br>Shovel and smooth it all !<br>So do we bury a Nation dead . . .<br>And who shall be next to fall, good sirs,<br>With your good help to fall?</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=510876" data-title="Russia to the Pacifists de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="1918 God rest you, peaceful gentlemen, let nothing you dismay, But--leave your sports a little while--the dead are borne this way! Armies dead and Cities dead, past all count or care. God rest you, merry gentlemen, what portent see you there? Si..."></div> </div> </div>

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