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- Author: John Gay
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2014
- Pages: 74
- ISBN-10: 1499181310
- ISBN-13: 9781499181319
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.4 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
That when I die this word may stand for me- He had a heart to praise, an eye to see, And beauty was his king. Dead at the age of thirty-one after a sudden operation, Claud Lovat Fraser was as surely a victim of the war as though he had fallen in action. He was full of vigour for his work, but shell-shock had left him with a heart that could not stand a strain of this kind, and all his own fine courage could not help the surgeons in a losing fight. We are not sorry for him-we learn that, not to be sorry for the dead. But for ourselves? This terror is always so fresh, so unexampled. I had telephoned to him to ask whether he would help me in a certain theatrical enterprise. I was told by his servant that he was ill, but one hears these things so often that one gave but little thought to it beyond sending a telegram asking for news; and now this. Personal griefs are of no public interest, but here is as sad a public loss as has befallen us, if the world can measure truly, in our generation.
The promotion ends in 
- Author: John Gay
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2014
- Pages: 74
- ISBN-10: 1499181310
- ISBN-13: 9781499181319
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.4 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
That when I die this word may stand for me- He had a heart to praise, an eye to see, And beauty was his king. Dead at the age of thirty-one after a sudden operation, Claud Lovat Fraser was as surely a victim of the war as though he had fallen in action. He was full of vigour for his work, but shell-shock had left him with a heart that could not stand a strain of this kind, and all his own fine courage could not help the surgeons in a losing fight. We are not sorry for him-we learn that, not to be sorry for the dead. But for ourselves? This terror is always so fresh, so unexampled. I had telephoned to him to ask whether he would help me in a certain theatrical enterprise. I was told by his servant that he was ill, but one hears these things so often that one gave but little thought to it beyond sending a telegram asking for news; and now this. Personal griefs are of no public interest, but here is as sad a public loss as has befallen us, if the world can measure truly, in our generation.
Reviews