The Old Happiness Is Unreturning.

My Friend, You Would Not Tell With Such High Zest To Children Ardent For Some Desperate Glory. The Old Lie: It Is Sweet And Fitting That You Should Die For Your Country.

When I Begin To Eliminate From The List All Those Professions Which Are Impossible From A Financial Point Of View And Then Those Which I Feel Disinclined To-it Leaves Nothing

I Have Perceived Much Beauty In The Hoarse Oaths That Kept Our Courage Straight; Heard Music In The Silentness Of Duty; Found Peace Where Shell-storms Spouted Reddest Spate.

The Young Soldier It Is Not Death Without Hereafter To One In Dearth Of Life And Its Laughter, Nor The Sweet Murder Dealt Slow And Even Unto The Martyr Smiling At Heaven: It Is The Smile Faint As A (waning) Myth, Faint, And Exceeding Small On A Boy's Murdered Mouth.

I, Too, Saw God Through Mud