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!

Rudyard Kipling

pre1914:
Tommy (1890)
Recessional (1897)

writing directly elated to the First World War:
Prose -
Mary Postgate
The Gardener

Poetry -
The Beginnings
Epitaph
'My Boy Jack'
Mesopotamia
Justice
The Hyaenas
Gethsemane
En-dor