Sunday Kipling

We're...dealing. Lu and her Mom are trying to find their new normal. Both show signs of that but we're taking things slowly. Thank you all again for your e-mails and kind comments. They have meant the world to us.

Video is taking forever. Stupid Blogger. I'll get some up soonest.

The other day we hit a milestone here. We went past 200,000 hits. Bug urine to many of you but for me it's a wonder and a delight. Thank you again for visiting and chatting with me. It's been awesome as all of you are.

This Sunday Kipling is in honor of The Sarge.

We miss you Pop.
Six

The Burial

           
When that great Kings return to clay,
   Or Emperors in their pride,
Grief of a day shall fill a day,
  Because its creature died.
But we -- we reckon not with those
  Whom the mere Fates ordain,
This Power that wrought on us and goes
  Back to the Power again.

Dreamer devout, by vision led
  Beyond our guess or reach,
The travail of his spirit bred
  Cities in place of speech.
So huge the all-mastering thought that drove 
  So brief the term allowed 
Nations, not words, he linked to prove
  His faith before the crowd.

It is his will that he look forth
  Across the world he won 
The granite of the ancient North 
  Great spaces washed with sun.

There shall he patient take his seat
  (As when the Death he dared),
And there await a people's feet
  In the paths that he prepared.

There, till the vision he foresaw
  Splendid and whole arise,
And unimagined Empires draw
  To council 'neath his skies,
The immense and brooding Spirit still
  Shall quicken and control.
Living he was the land, and dead,
  His soul shall be her soul!