The tumalt and shouting dies, The captains and the kings depart. Still stands thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heat. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget.
Rudyard KiplingThere rise her timeless capitals of empires daily born, whose plinths are laid at midnight and whose streets are packed at morn; and here come tired youths and maids that feign to love or sin in tones like rusty razor blades to tunes like smitten tin.
Rudyard KiplingA boy of to-day is affected by every change of tone and gust of opinion, so that he lies even when he desires to speak the truth.
Rudyard Kipling