The Kennedy Legacy

There will never be another Camelot

Posts tagged John F. Kennedy

27 notes

And there’s a picture where I have my hand on his chin and you know, he’s just looking at me and there really were tears in his eyes… . suddenly a flash came because I didn’t think there was anyone there. In the papers it said, wife chucks him under chin. I mean, that was so much more emotional than any kiss because his eyes really did fill with tears.
Jacqueline Kennedy

Filed under John F. Kennedy Jackie Kennedy Jacqueline Kennedy

100 notes

Oh, it’s a long long while from May to December

But the days grow short when you reach September

When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame

One hasn’t got the time

Oh, the days dwindle down to a precious few

September, November!

And these few precious days I’ll spend with you

These precious days I’ll spend with you

— Sung by John F. Kennedy on the last Sunday of his life 

(Source: youngfirstlady)

Filed under John F. Kennedy

22 notes

‘To An Athlete Dying Young’ - A.E Housman (1896)The time you won your town the raceWe chaired you through the market-place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town. Smart lad, to slip betimes awayFrom fields where glory does not stayAnd early though the laurel growsIt withers quicker than the rose. Eyes the shady night has shutCannot see the record cut, And silence sounds no worse than cheersAfter earth has stopped the ears: Now you will not swell the routOf lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outranAnd the name died before the man. So set, before its echoes fade, The fleet foot on the sill of shade, And hold to the low lintel upThe still-defended challenge-cup. And round that early-laurelled headWill flock to gaze the strengthless dead, And find unwithered on its curlsThe garland briefer than a girl’s.

‘To An Athlete Dying Young’ - A.E Housman (1896)

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl’s.

Filed under Kennedy Kennedys John F. Kennedy John F. Kennedy Jr