I Didn't Want To Die

In The Years 1910 And 1911 I Had 51 Innings With 10 Not Outs And An Average Of 19. This I Consider A Creditable Record For A Poet.

I Didn't Want To Die - Not Before I'd Finished Reading The Return Of The Native Anyhow.

And When The War Is Done And Youth Stone Dead, I'd Toddle Safely Home And Die--in Bed.

O German Mother Dreaming By The Fire, While You Are Knitting Socks To Send Your Son His Face Is Trodden Deeper In The Mud.

For It Is Humanly Certain That Most Of Us Remember Very Little Of What We Have Read. To Open Almost Any Book A Second Time Is To Be Reminded That We Had Forgotten Well-nigh Everything That The Writer Told Us. Parting From The Narrator And His Narrative, We Retain Only A Fading Impression; And He, As It Were, Takes The Book Away From Us And Tucks It Under His Arm.