France At War, by Rudyard 
Kipling 
 
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Title: France At War On the Frontier of Civilization 
Author: Rudyard Kipling 
Release Date: May 27, 2004 [EBook #12454] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FRANCE 
AT WAR *** 
 
Produced by David S. Miller 
 
FRANCE AT WAR On the Frontier of Civilization 
BY RUDYARD KIPLING 
1915
CONTENTS 
Poem: France I. On the Frontier of Civilization II. The Nation's Spirit 
and a New Inheritance III. Battle Spectacle and a Review IV. The Spirit 
of the People V. Life in Trenches on the Mountain Side VI. The 
Common Task of a Great People 
 
FRANCE AT WAR On the Frontier of Civilization 
FRANCE* BY RUDYARD KIPLING 
Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all By the light sane joy of 
life, the buckler of the Gaul, Furious in luxury, merciless in toil, 
Terrible with strength that draws from her tireless soil, Strictest judge 
of her own worth, gentlest of men's mind, First to follow truth and last 
to leave old truths behind-- France beloved of every soul that loves its 
fellow-kind. 
Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side by side we lay Fretting in the 
womb of Rome to begin the fray. Ere men knew our tongues apart, our 
one taste was known-- Each must mould the other's fate as he wrought 
his own. To this end we stirred mankind till all earth was ours, Till our 
world-end strifes began wayside thrones and powers, Puppets that we 
made or broke to bar the other's path-- Necessary, outpost folk, 
hirelings of our wrath. To this end we stormed the seas, tack for tack, 
and burst Through the doorways of new worlds, doubtful which was 
first. Hand on hilt (rememberest thou?), ready for the blow. Sure 
whatever else we met we should meet our foe. Spurred or baulked at 
ev'ry stride by the other's strength, So we rode the ages down and every 
ocean's length; Where did you refrain from us or we refrain from you? 
Ask the wave that has not watched war between us two. Others held us 
for a while, but with weaker charms, These we quitted at the call for 
each other's arms. Eager toward the known delight, equally we strove, 
Each the other's mystery, terror, need, and love. To each other's open 
court with our proofs we came, Where could we find honour else or
men to test the claim? From each other's throat we wrenched valour's 
last reward, That extorted word of praise gasped 'twixt lunge and guard. 
In each other's cup we poured mingled blood and tears, Brutal joys, 
unmeasured hopes, intolerable fears, All that soiled or salted life for a 
thousand years. Proved beyond the need of proof, matched in every 
clime, O companion, we have lived greatly through all time: Yoked in 
knowledge and remorse now we come to rest, Laughing at old 
villainies that time has turned to jest, Pardoning old necessity no 
pardon can efface-- That undying sin we shared in Rouen market-place. 
Now we watch the new years shape, wondering if they hold Fiercer 
lighting in their hearts than we launched of old. Now we hear new 
voices rise, question, boast or gird, As we raged (rememberest thou?) 
when our crowds were stirred. Now we count new keels afloat, and 
new hosts on land, Massed liked ours (rememberest thou?) when our 
strokes were planned. We were schooled for dear life sake, to know 
each other's blade: What can blood and iron make more than we have 
made? We have learned by keenest use to know each other's mind: 
What shall blood and iron loose that we cannot bind? We who swept 
each other's coast, sacked each other's home, Since the sword of 
Brennus clashed on the scales at Rome, Listen, court and close again, 
wheeling girth to girth, In the strained and bloodless guard set for peace 
on earth. 
Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all By the light sane joy of 
life, the buckler of the Gaul, Furious in luxury, merciless in toil, 
Terrible with strength renewed from a tireless soil, Strictest judge of 
her own worth, gentlest of men's mind, First to follow truth and last to 
leave old truths behind, France beloved of every soul that loves or 
serves its kind. 
*First published June 24, 1913. 
 
I 
ON THE FRONTIER OF CIVILIZATION
"It's a pretty park," said the French artillery officer. "We've done a lot 
for it since the owner    
    
		
	
	
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