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Poem by Rudyard Kipling «Epitaphs of the War». 1914-1918. 13. The Favour Death favoured me from the first, well knowing I could not endure To wait on him day by day. He quitted my betters and came Whistling over the fields, and, when he had made all sure, “Thy line is at end,” he said, “but at least I have saved its name.” Rudyard Kipling Rudyard Kipling's other poems:
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