Songs from Books By Rudyard Kipling I am the land of their fathers.In me the virtue stays.I will bring back my children, After certain days. Under their feet in the grassesMy clinging magic runs.They shall return as strangers, They shall remain as sons. Over their headsin the branchesOf their new-bought, ancient trees, I weave an incantationAnd draw them to my knees. Scent of smoke in the evening.Smell of rain in the night, The hours, the days and the sesons, Order their souls aright; Till I make plain the meaningOf all my ...
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Songs from Books By Rudyard Kipling I am the land of their fathers.In me the virtue stays.I will bring back my children, After certain days. Under their feet in the grassesMy clinging magic runs.They shall return as strangers, They shall remain as sons. Over their headsin the branchesOf their new-bought, ancient trees, I weave an incantationAnd draw them to my knees. Scent of smoke in the evening.Smell of rain in the night, The hours, the days and the sesons, Order their souls aright; Till I make plain the meaningOf all my thousand years-Till I fill their hearts with knowledge.While I fill their eyes with tears. PUCK'S SONG See you the ferny ride that stealsInto the oak-woods far?O that was whence they hewed the keelsThat rolled to Trafalgar. And mark you where the ivy clingsTo Bayham's mouldering walls?O there we cast the stout railingsThat stand around St. Paul's. See you the dimpled track that runsAll hollow through the wheat?O that was where they hauled the gunsThat smote King Philip's fleet. Out of the Weald, the secret Weald, Men sent in ancient years, The horse-shoes red at Flodden Field, The arrows at Poitiers. See you our little mill that clacks, So busy by the brook?She has ground her corn and paid her taxEver since Domesday Book. See you our stilly woods of oak?And the dread ditch beside?O that was where the Saxons brokeOn the day that Harold died. See you the windy levels spreadAbout the gates of Rye?O that was where the Northmen fled, When Alfred's ships came by. See you our pastures wide and lone, Where the red oxen browse?O there was a City thronged and known.Ere London boasted a house. And see you, after rain, the traceOf mound and ditch and wall?O that was a Legion's camping-place, When C???sar sailed from Gaul. And see you marks that show and fade, Like shadows on the Downs?O they are the lines the Flint Men made, To guard their wondrous towns. Trackway and Camp and City lost, Salt Marsh where now is corn;Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease, And so was England born! She is not any common Earth, Water or wood or air, But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye, Where you and I will fare. We are delighted to publish this classic book as part of our extensive Classic Library collection. Many of the books in our collection have been out of print for decades, and therefore have not been accessible to the general public. The aim of our publishing program is to facilitate rapid access to this vast reservoir of literature, and our view is that this is a significant literary work, which deserves to be brought back into print after many decades. The contents of the vast majority of titles in the Classic Library have been scanned from the original works. To ensure a high quality product, each title has been meticulously hand curated by our staff. Our philosophy has been guided by a desire to provide the reader with a book that is as close as possible to ownership of the original work. We hope that you will enjoy this wonderful classic work, and that for you it becomes an enriching
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