Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Like a dream the vision shifted and went back, and he saw the trees again. But this time they were not so close, and he could see what was going on: they were not waving in the wind, they were falling, crashing to the ground.
'Hi!' cried Sam in an outraged voice. 'There’s that Ted Sandyman a-cutting down trees as he shouldn’t. They didn’t ought to be felled: it’s that avenue beyond the Mill that shades the road to Bywater. I wish I could get at Ted, and I’d fell him!'
But now Sam noticed that the Old Mill had vanished, and a large red-brick building was being put up where it had stood. Lots of folk were busily at work. There was a tall red chimney nearby. Black smoke seemed to cloud the surface of the Mirror.

'There’s some devilry at work in the Shire,' he said. ‘Elrond knew what he was about when he wanted to send Mr. Merry back.' Then suddenly Sam gave a cry and sprang away. 'I can’t stay here,' he said wildly. 'I must go home. They’ve dug up Bagshot Row, and there’s the poor old Gaffer going down the Hill with his bits of things on a barrow. I must go home!'
'You cannot go home alone,' said the Lady. 'You did not wish to go home without your master before you looked in the Mirror, and yet you knew that evil things might well be happening in the Shire. Remember that the Mirror shows many things, and not all have yet come to pass. Some never come to be, unless those that behold the visions turn aside from their path to prevent them.'

Presently he came back, and bending looked at Frodo’s face, pale beneath him in the dusk. And suddenly he saw that he was in the picture that was revealed to him in the mirror of Galadriel in Lórien: Frodo with a pale face lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff. Or fast asleep he had thought then. ‘He’s dead!’ he said. ‘Not asleep, dead!’ And as he said it, as if the words had set the venom to its work again, it seemed to him that the hue of the face grew livid green.
And then black despair came down on him, and Sam bowed to the ground, and drew his grey hood over his head, and night came into his heart, and he knew no more.

Steady the Buffs! Kipling quotes this phrase in three different stories – this one, “Poor Dear Mama” (The Story of the Gadsbys), and “The Last Term” (Stalky & Co.)

The source of this quotation was discussed on the Kipling Mailbase in 2001 and 2002, the following being based on the comments by Roger Ayers, Michael Jefferson, and Tim Connell:

The Buffs were a notable regiment of the British Army, the Third Foot, descended from a regiment raised for Dutch service in 1572, and the London Trainbands, all of which had buff coloured facings to their uniforms. The 3rd Foot had become popularly known as ‘The Buffs’ by 1702, and this became part of their official name by 1751.

The phrase originated in the Peninsular War, and is attributed to the Colonel of the Buffs. During an engagement, the Buffs, as senior Regiment were positioned on the right flank in an advance against the French. The enthusiatic Buffs moved rapidly and got well ahead of the general line of advance, whereupon the Colonel is reputed to have shouted:

‘Steady the Buffs, give the Slashers a chance!’

The ‘Slashers’ was a nickname accorded to the 28th Foot (2nd Battalion, the Gloucestershire Regiment), the Regiment to the left of the Buffs in the advance line, a name that they are said to have earned when cutting their way out of trouble at the Battle of White Plains in 1777. They share the battle honours Albuhera, Vittoria, Pyrenees and others in the Peninsula with the Buffs, the Berkshires and the Northamptonshires so they were often in action together

Readers' note to 'His Brother's Keeper, The Kipling Society website