Poem by Rudyard Kipling

Gethsemane

         1914-18

The Garden called Gethsemane
  In Picardy it was,
And there the people came to see
  The English soldiers pass.
We used to pass -- we used to pass
  Or halt, as it might be,
And ship our masks in case of gas
  Beyond Gethsemane.

The Garden called Gethsemane,
  It held a pretty lass,
But all the time she talked to me
  I prayed my cup might pass.
The officer sat on the chair,
  The men lay on the grass,
And all the time we halted there
  I prayed my cup might pass.

It didn't pass -- it didn't pass --
  It didn't pass from me.
I drank it when we met the gas
  Beyond Gethsemane!

1. The First Chantey
2. The Last of the Light Brigade
3. «Limits and Renewals». 1932. 12. The Threshold
4. Merrow Down
5. Justice

Print

5936 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version