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Rudyard Kipling The Complete Verse
Rudyard Kipling was the barrack-room balladeer and the unrivalled poet laureate of the common man. He was born in Bombay in 1865, and after schooling in England he returned to India and started his writing career. He settled in Sussex after the Boer War and concentrated on verse and short stories. In her foreword to this edition of Kipling's verse, M.M. Kaye, author of "The Far Pavilions", introduces readers to Kipling's India and looks at the influences in his life that were responsible for his becoming the literary lion of the Empire.
756 pages, Paperback
First published December 27, 1988
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About the author
Rudyard Kipling
7,213 books3,686 followersJoseph Rudyard Kipling was a journalist, short-story writer, poet, and novelist.
Kipling's works of fiction include The Jungle Book (1894), Kim (1901), and many short stories, including The Man Who Would Be King (1888). His poems include Mandalay (1890), Gunga Din (1890), The Gods of the Copybook Headings (1919), The White Man's Burden (1899), and If— (1910). He is regarded as a major innovator in the art of the short story; his children's books are classics of children's literature; and one critic described his work as exhibiting "a versatile and luminous narrative gift".
Kipling was one of the most popular writers in the United Kingdom, in both prose and verse, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Henry James said: "Kipling strikes me personally as the most complete man of genius (as distinct from fine intelligence) that I have ever known." In 1907, at the age of 41, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first English-language writer to receive the prize, and its youngest recipient to date. He was also sounded out for the British Poet Laureateship and on several occasions for a knighthood, both of which he declined.
Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907 "in consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas and remarkable talent for narration which characterize the creations of this world-famous author."
Kipling kept writing until the early 1930s, but at a slower pace and with much less success than before. On the night of 12 January 1936, Kipling suffered a haemorrhage in his small intestine. He underwent surgery, but died less than a week later on 18 January 1936 at the age of 70 of a perforated duodenal ulcer. Kipling's death had in fact previously been incorrectly announced in a magazine, to which he wrote, "I've just read that I am dead. Don't forget to delete me from your list of subscribers."
Kipling's works of fiction include The Jungle Book (1894), Kim (1901), and many short stories, including The Man Who Would Be King (1888). His poems include Mandalay (1890), Gunga Din (1890), The Gods of the Copybook Headings (1919), The White Man's Burden (1899), and If— (1910). He is regarded as a major innovator in the art of the short story; his children's books are classics of children's literature; and one critic described his work as exhibiting "a versatile and luminous narrative gift".
Kipling was one of the most popular writers in the United Kingdom, in both prose and verse, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Henry James said: "Kipling strikes me personally as the most complete man of genius (as distinct from fine intelligence) that I have ever known." In 1907, at the age of 41, he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first English-language writer to receive the prize, and its youngest recipient to date. He was also sounded out for the British Poet Laureateship and on several occasions for a knighthood, both of which he declined.
Awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1907 "in consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas and remarkable talent for narration which characterize the creations of this world-famous author."
Kipling kept writing until the early 1930s, but at a slower pace and with much less success than before. On the night of 12 January 1936, Kipling suffered a haemorrhage in his small intestine. He underwent surgery, but died less than a week later on 18 January 1936 at the age of 70 of a perforated duodenal ulcer. Kipling's death had in fact previously been incorrectly announced in a magazine, to which he wrote, "I've just read that I am dead. Don't forget to delete me from your list of subscribers."
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Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews
March 11, 2010
When I was 10-years-old, all I wanted for my birthday was a full collection of poems by Rudyard Kipling. My grandmother gave it to me, and I have it still and continue to be enchanged by the music of the verses.
November 27, 2023
I get quite annoyed when I hear Rudyard Kipling being reduced to being 'the poet of manhood and masculinity'. It's so caricatural and simplistic! He wrote on so many different topics and with such a verve, range of moods, and style, that such narrowed labelling tends to get on my nerves.
Yes, for sure, as a man those political ideas were controversial (a staunch defender of the British Empire) he was obviously a jingoist, and, so, had an silly admiration for the military despite having himself never wore the uniform -let alone battled in a war as a soldier! One could therefore easily dismiss (or, at least, overlook) most of his 'barrack-room' verses as being no more than a child playing 'bang-bang-you're-dead!'. Yet, such poems are interesting because, funnily enough, their writing style reflects his romanticised militarism; from their powerful images to the repetitions of whole lines, reading like military parades and marches... There's is indeed something 'tough' about him. Quite admittedly, too, as a well travelled man (he had gone all around the world) his poems about boats and ships are also very 'masculine', and surprisingly creative given how limited such a topic must have been to expand upon. His portrayals are always about the rough and tough boats at war against the elements and chaotic seas, going onwards into adventures. But...
But, he also penned some cheeky and whimsy verses about the British ruling classes in India, showing him having no patience for the politicians and other pen-pushers of the British Home Office and their pettiness. His poems about India might be beautiful, but his mockeries and digs at whose administering it are certainly more delightful to read! Here's indeed another thing: whether he was laughing at the bureaucrats, praising the common soldiers, describing the common people no matter the cultures they belonged to, or, teasing with some womanising (again, he was more of a barrack-room type of poet than a troubadour...) Kipling was really good at describing the common man.
Now, of course, as a crusader for colonialism, he definitely was on the wrong side of history. 'The White Man's Burden' will always remain one of the most infamous poem ever written, and you certainly want to punch him in the face for his 'naivety' (I was about to type 'stupidity'...) at praising the likes of Cecil Rhodes! Jingoist and imperialist as he was, let's not forget, though, that he was also capable of displaying deep and heart-felt emotions; as in some of his poems about the First World War. Did grieving for his son soften him a bit?
Was he racist? Or 'merely' (well) a patronising ethnocentric?
Kipling? He may not have been a likeable man, but you cannot take away from him that he was a great poet. At the service of the wrong cause, but great nevertheless.
Yes, for sure, as a man those political ideas were controversial (a staunch defender of the British Empire) he was obviously a jingoist, and, so, had an silly admiration for the military despite having himself never wore the uniform -let alone battled in a war as a soldier! One could therefore easily dismiss (or, at least, overlook) most of his 'barrack-room' verses as being no more than a child playing 'bang-bang-you're-dead!'. Yet, such poems are interesting because, funnily enough, their writing style reflects his romanticised militarism; from their powerful images to the repetitions of whole lines, reading like military parades and marches... There's is indeed something 'tough' about him. Quite admittedly, too, as a well travelled man (he had gone all around the world) his poems about boats and ships are also very 'masculine', and surprisingly creative given how limited such a topic must have been to expand upon. His portrayals are always about the rough and tough boats at war against the elements and chaotic seas, going onwards into adventures. But...
But, he also penned some cheeky and whimsy verses about the British ruling classes in India, showing him having no patience for the politicians and other pen-pushers of the British Home Office and their pettiness. His poems about India might be beautiful, but his mockeries and digs at whose administering it are certainly more delightful to read! Here's indeed another thing: whether he was laughing at the bureaucrats, praising the common soldiers, describing the common people no matter the cultures they belonged to, or, teasing with some womanising (again, he was more of a barrack-room type of poet than a troubadour...) Kipling was really good at describing the common man.
Now, of course, as a crusader for colonialism, he definitely was on the wrong side of history. 'The White Man's Burden' will always remain one of the most infamous poem ever written, and you certainly want to punch him in the face for his 'naivety' (I was about to type 'stupidity'...) at praising the likes of Cecil Rhodes! Jingoist and imperialist as he was, let's not forget, though, that he was also capable of displaying deep and heart-felt emotions; as in some of his poems about the First World War. Did grieving for his son soften him a bit?
Was he racist? Or 'merely' (well) a patronising ethnocentric?
Kipling? He may not have been a likeable man, but you cannot take away from him that he was a great poet. At the service of the wrong cause, but great nevertheless.
June 17, 2011
"When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier."
Wow. The pathos.
Re-reading Kipling again. The older I get them more dark and critical his poetry sounds.
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier."
Wow. The pathos.
Re-reading Kipling again. The older I get them more dark and critical his poetry sounds.
August 12, 2012
There are definatly a few poems I will never forget.
February 1, 2016
I have owned two copies of this book, the first fell apart from too much use. Anyone who has ever loved a dog will become instant Kipling fans after reading The Power of the Dog, It'll make you go hug your pet.
July 19, 2007
economical comprehensive collection of all of Kippling's poems.
the poetry itself is great and extremely clever. the over-all presentation of the book is a bit dry.
the poetry itself is great and extremely clever. the over-all presentation of the book is a bit dry.
September 2, 2008
A master of the English language who has served it well.
July 3, 2009
"If" is one of my favorite poems.
September 5, 2009
Magnificient poet, very underrated, genius, witty, humorous and fascinating. Now outdated and politicially incorrect, but he had a fine mind and a lot of talent.
January 29, 2011
I love his poem 'IF'.
June 14, 2020
He’s a fucking imperialist, unapologetically racist and in every way a Victorian. I tried, and got a decent way through, but fuck this dude I have better things to do.
May 16, 2022
I think I counted 543 poems in this definitive edition, but I might be off by one or two. It certainly contained a lot of poems I’d never seen before. There are no pages wasted on introductions or prefaces; it’s just Kipling’s poems in more-or-less chronological order and two indices: one ordered by title and one by first lines. There are a few simple glosses of Indian words, but mostly you’re on your own. I need to keep a dictionary at hand: Kipling has an absolutely amazing vocabulary.
I understand some people just want their favorite poems and to read them over and over again, but I went whole hog and read from soup to nuts, all five hundred odd all of them. Rather more than half speak of the hard lives of soldiers and sailors and others in India. At the end, I had a better feel for life out there for the common man (Kipling mostly steers clear of grandees, British or Indian) than I ever got from a history book. Some of these poems are not for the faint-hearted. Life was hard and frequently tragic, and the heavy beat in the verse was needed to keep going. I hadn’t quite appreciated that when I only knew the popular verses: If, Mandalay, The White Man’s Burden etc.
The surprise was the section from “The Muse Among the Motors” 1900-1930. These were mostly new to me and were absolutely awful spoofs of well-known poems by other poets. I loved them. They’re very funny. For example: “The Idiot Boy” (Wordsworth)
I understand some people just want their favorite poems and to read them over and over again, but I went whole hog and read from soup to nuts, all five hundred odd all of them. Rather more than half speak of the hard lives of soldiers and sailors and others in India. At the end, I had a better feel for life out there for the common man (Kipling mostly steers clear of grandees, British or Indian) than I ever got from a history book. Some of these poems are not for the faint-hearted. Life was hard and frequently tragic, and the heavy beat in the verse was needed to keep going. I hadn’t quite appreciated that when I only knew the popular verses: If, Mandalay, The White Man’s Burden etc.
The surprise was the section from “The Muse Among the Motors” 1900-1930. These were mostly new to me and were absolutely awful spoofs of well-known poems by other poets. I loved them. They’re very funny. For example: “The Idiot Boy” (Wordsworth)
He wandered down the mountain gradeThere is also a spoof of Shakespeare, which somehow starts off in Henry V, drifts into Hamlet and a few other plays, and has Shylock waving his Third Party Risk Policy.
Beyond the speed assigned—
A youth whom Justice often stayed
And generally fined.
Read
June 20, 2014I am so conflicted about Kipling. On the one hand: imperialist, colonial, racist, sexist, and so on. On the other hand: an absolute master of the English language. Not assigning any stars, because I don't know how to rate "brilliant/horrible" at the same time.
Read
April 15, 2008the poem "if" is a favorite
June 27, 2008
Kipling is one of my favorite poets. I read the poems to my boys some times, they are quite taken with the idea boots-boots-boots slogging over Africa.
May 9, 2009
Some really good stuff in here. The Palace and Ballad of East and West are two of my favorites.
July 16, 2012
It's Kipling. Alot of Kipling. Some of it's great. Some of it's not as good as that which is great...
May 4, 2010
i cannot say enough about kipling....
October 8, 2010
I haven't read the whole think, but Kipling's poetry is AMAZING, especially his war poems.
November 29, 2014
Wonderful.
June 9, 2025
“ If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
•••
Eğer herkes aklını yitirirken sen sakin kalabilirsen,
Ve onlar seni suçlarken, sen suçlamazsan;
Eğer herkes senden şüphe ederken, sen kendine güvenebilirsen,
Ama onların şüphelerine de hak verebilirsen;
Eğer bekleyebilir ve beklemekten yorulmazsan,
Yalanla karşılaşıp yalan söylemezsen,
Nefret edilip de nefrete kapılmazsan,
Ama ne çok iyi görünmeye çalışırsan ne de çok bilgece konuşursan;
Eğer hayal kurabilir ama hayallerinin kölesi olmazsan,
Düşünebilir ama yalnızca düşünmeye saplanıp kalmazsan,
Eğer Zafer ve Felaketle karşılaşır
Ve bu iki sahtekâra aynı şekilde davranabilirsen;
Eğer söylediğin doğrular çarpıtılıp
Ahmaklar için tuzak haline getirilirse,
Ya da hayatını verdiğin şeyler yıkılırsa
Ve sen eğilip yıpranmış araçlarla yeniden inşa edebilirsen;
Eğer bütün kazançlarını bir araya toplayıp
Yazı tura oynar gibi tek bir elde riske atabilirsen,
Ve kaybedip başa döndüğünde
Zararına dair tek kelime etmezsen;
Eğer yüreğini, sinirlerini, kaslarını zorlayabilir
Ve tükendiklerinde bile onları senin işine yaramaya zorlayabilirsen,
Ve içindeki iradeye “dayan!” dedirtebilirsen
Her şeyin bittiği anda bile dayanmak için;
Eğer kalabalıklarla konuşur ama erdemini yitirmezsen,
Ya da krallarla dolaşır ama halktan kopmazsan,
Eğer ne düşmanların ne de sevgili dostların seni incitebilirse,
Ve herkes sana değer verir ama hiçbiri fazla değilse;
Eğer affı olmayan bir dakikayı
Altmış saniyelik bir koşuyla doldurabilirsen,
Dünya ve içindeki her şey senin olur,
Ve — daha önemlisi — bir adam olursun, oğlum! “
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
•••
Eğer herkes aklını yitirirken sen sakin kalabilirsen,
Ve onlar seni suçlarken, sen suçlamazsan;
Eğer herkes senden şüphe ederken, sen kendine güvenebilirsen,
Ama onların şüphelerine de hak verebilirsen;
Eğer bekleyebilir ve beklemekten yorulmazsan,
Yalanla karşılaşıp yalan söylemezsen,
Nefret edilip de nefrete kapılmazsan,
Ama ne çok iyi görünmeye çalışırsan ne de çok bilgece konuşursan;
Eğer hayal kurabilir ama hayallerinin kölesi olmazsan,
Düşünebilir ama yalnızca düşünmeye saplanıp kalmazsan,
Eğer Zafer ve Felaketle karşılaşır
Ve bu iki sahtekâra aynı şekilde davranabilirsen;
Eğer söylediğin doğrular çarpıtılıp
Ahmaklar için tuzak haline getirilirse,
Ya da hayatını verdiğin şeyler yıkılırsa
Ve sen eğilip yıpranmış araçlarla yeniden inşa edebilirsen;
Eğer bütün kazançlarını bir araya toplayıp
Yazı tura oynar gibi tek bir elde riske atabilirsen,
Ve kaybedip başa döndüğünde
Zararına dair tek kelime etmezsen;
Eğer yüreğini, sinirlerini, kaslarını zorlayabilir
Ve tükendiklerinde bile onları senin işine yaramaya zorlayabilirsen,
Ve içindeki iradeye “dayan!” dedirtebilirsen
Her şeyin bittiği anda bile dayanmak için;
Eğer kalabalıklarla konuşur ama erdemini yitirmezsen,
Ya da krallarla dolaşır ama halktan kopmazsan,
Eğer ne düşmanların ne de sevgili dostların seni incitebilirse,
Ve herkes sana değer verir ama hiçbiri fazla değilse;
Eğer affı olmayan bir dakikayı
Altmış saniyelik bir koşuyla doldurabilirsen,
Dünya ve içindeki her şey senin olur,
Ve — daha önemlisi — bir adam olursun, oğlum! “
October 15, 2021
We had a copy of some of RK's poetry but it went out when we downsized - error.
I bought this via www.abebooks.co.uk and have enjoyed reading the introduction by M M Kaye, but I doubt I will EVER be able to say that I have read the whole collection - 687 pages.
One of my favourites begins . . .
When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald,
In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field,
He called to him Hobdenius-a Briton of the Clay,
Saying: "What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?"
And the aged Hobden answered: "I remember as a lad
My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad.
An' the more that you neglect her the less you'll get her clean.
Have it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen."
And it goes on through the Danes, the Anglo - Saxons, the Normans to the present day - and the Hobdens are still there, and - says Kipling - are the true owners of the land.
This is definitely a "still reading" book and will no doubt remain so until I depart.
* * * * *
Dawn off the Foreland -- the young flood making
Jumbled and short and steep --
Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking --
Awkward water to sweep.
"Mines reported in the fairway,
Warn all traffic and detain.
Sent up Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."
Noon off the Foreland -- the first ebb making
Lumpy and strong in the bight.
Boom after boom, and the golf-hut shaking
And the jackdaws wild with fright.
"Mines located in the fairway,
Boats now working up the chain,
Sweepers -- Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."
Dusk off the Foreland -- the last light going
And the traffic crowding through,
And five damned trawlers with their syreens blowing
Heading the whole review!
"Sweep completed in the fairway,
No more mines remain.
Sent back Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."
I bought this via www.abebooks.co.uk and have enjoyed reading the introduction by M M Kaye, but I doubt I will EVER be able to say that I have read the whole collection - 687 pages.
One of my favourites begins . . .
When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald,
In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field,
He called to him Hobdenius-a Briton of the Clay,
Saying: "What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?"
And the aged Hobden answered: "I remember as a lad
My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad.
An' the more that you neglect her the less you'll get her clean.
Have it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen."
And it goes on through the Danes, the Anglo - Saxons, the Normans to the present day - and the Hobdens are still there, and - says Kipling - are the true owners of the land.
This is definitely a "still reading" book and will no doubt remain so until I depart.
* * * * *
Dawn off the Foreland -- the young flood making
Jumbled and short and steep --
Black in the hollows and bright where it's breaking --
Awkward water to sweep.
"Mines reported in the fairway,
Warn all traffic and detain.
Sent up Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."
Noon off the Foreland -- the first ebb making
Lumpy and strong in the bight.
Boom after boom, and the golf-hut shaking
And the jackdaws wild with fright.
"Mines located in the fairway,
Boats now working up the chain,
Sweepers -- Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."
Dusk off the Foreland -- the last light going
And the traffic crowding through,
And five damned trawlers with their syreens blowing
Heading the whole review!
"Sweep completed in the fairway,
No more mines remain.
Sent back Unity, Claribel, Assyrian, Stormcock, and Golden Gain."
April 13, 2023
Rudyard Kipling lived a fascinating life, mixing with the working classes in India and England, yet his personal politics upheld colonialism and the ruling class. This inner conflict saw him decline the Poet Laureate and a Lordship, perhaps it was his upbringing which made him so conservative. Kipling's early life in India taught him about the class system, the British Raj, the Hindus, Muslims and Buddhists, the army, the underclass, the untouchables. His poems describe the hardships of the poor and the military, yet he still takes the side of their oppressors. Kipling has been accused of racism and sexism, but I think he had genuine friendships amongst all races, to produce such insightful works about people's personal lives and struggles. Victorian society was sexist, and he held those attitudes with most people of his time. (If you think he's racist, read 'Kim'). Many poems also display his sense of humour, gallows humour, and I found an argument for pacifism amid the brutal war writing.
January 28, 2024
4/5 stars. Much of this was five stars for me, but there was also a lot that I enjoyed much less. I suppose that’s what you get when you read somebody’s entire poetic works, especially someone as prolific as Kipling. I didn’t realise he’d written quite so much poetry as this. At 700 pages, even reading what felt like a lot of poetry each day, this still took me two months to get through. I just can’t read 50 pages of this stuff and take on any meaning. Once the words stop registering with me, I know it’s time to put the book down.
I liked almost all of the poems about WWII, and there were some other miscellaneous poems in there that also stuck out a lot (some about the love of his dogs, for instance). Some were caricatures of unknown-to-me politicians who died a hundred years ago, and some were critiques of a society I was never a part of, so these couldn’t resonate, beyond simply the technically ability. This latter is very strong, with lovely use of rhyme and meter throughout almost every piece.
I’m glad I read this…but I’m also glad to be done with it now!
I liked almost all of the poems about WWII, and there were some other miscellaneous poems in there that also stuck out a lot (some about the love of his dogs, for instance). Some were caricatures of unknown-to-me politicians who died a hundred years ago, and some were critiques of a society I was never a part of, so these couldn’t resonate, beyond simply the technically ability. This latter is very strong, with lovely use of rhyme and meter throughout almost every piece.
I’m glad I read this…but I’m also glad to be done with it now!
July 24, 2015
Basically my life, one of the most precious objects I own, I take it nearly everywhere on all of my adventures. Wonderful, changed my life.
Displaying 1 - 25 of 25 reviews