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Poem by Rudyard Kipling


London Stone


WHEN you come to London Town, 
   (Grieving-grieving! )
Bring your flowers and lay them down 
   At the place of grieving.

When you come to London Town, 
   (Grieving-grieving!)
Bow your head and mourn your own, 
   With the others grieving.

For those minutes, let it wake 
   (Grieving-grieving!)
All the empty-heart and ache 
   That is not cured by grieving. 

For those minutes, tell no lie: 
   (Grieving-grieving!) 
"Grave, this is thy victory;
   And the sting of death is grieving." 

Where's our help, from Earth or Heaven, 
   (Grieving-grieving!)
To comfort us for what we've given, 
   And only gained the grieving? 

Heaven's too far and Earth too near, 
   (Grieving-grieving!)
But our neighbour's standing here, 
   Grieving as we're grieving. 

What's his burden. every day? 
   (Grieving-grieving!)
Nothing man can count or weigh, 
   But loss and love's own grieving. 

What is the tie betwixt us two 
   (Grieving-grieving!)
That must last our whole lives through? 
"As I suffer, so do you."
   That may ease the grieving. 



Rudyard Kipling


Rudyard Kipling's other poems:
  1. The First Chantey
  2. The Cursing of Stephen
  3. The Jester
  4. Anchor Song
  5. The Covenant


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