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Jess 2022-01-28 08:22:59
In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders... -
Lesly 2022-01-28 08:22:59
World War I glory
(2009.11.12) Everyone has their dreams. There are very few who can open their minds and move forward boldly. It may be the closure of reality, or it may be the difference of ideology between people. In the age of raging wars, it is a choice whether to live in a comfortable nest at the rear, or to...
Mark Huberman
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Rosalia 2022-04-24 07:01:24
The elders deceived us. When Jack's mother took out her son's clothes and put them on to feel his warmth, I remember crying.
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Quinn 2022-04-22 07:01:54
This father's psychological quality is really strong, and it was the last manifestation of the so-called aristocratic spirit during World War I.
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Caroline Kipling: [crying] I miss him.
Rudyard Kipling: [bursts into tears] So do I.
Caroline Kipling: I can feel his head on my chest. I can feel his thick hair under my fingers. I can hear him laugh. I can feel his heat against me.
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[last lines]
Rudyard Kipling: Have you news of my boy Jack?/ Not this tide./ When d'you think that he'll come back?/ Not with this wind blowing, and this tide./ Has any one else had word of him?/ Not this tide./ For what is sunk will hardly swim, Not with this wind blowing, and this tide./ Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?/ None this tide,/ Nor any tide,/ Except he did not shame his kind-/ Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide./ Then hold your head up all the more,/ This tide,/ And every tide;/ Because he was the son you bore,/ And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!
