Truth ... Is A Breath,

Do Not Weep, Maiden, For War Is Kind.because Your Lover Threw Wild Hands Toward The Skyand The Affrighted Steed Ran On Alone,do Not Weep.war Is Kind.

When It Came Night, The White Waves Paced To And Fro In The Moonlight, And The Wind Brought The Sound Of The Great Sea's Voice To The Men On Shore, And They Felt That They Could Then Be Interpreters.

I Saw A Man Pursuing The Horizon;round And Round They Sped.i Was Disturbed At This;i Accosted The Man."it Is Futile," I Said,"you Can Never-""you Lie," He Cried,and Ran On.

Unwind My Riddle.cruel As Hawks The Hours Fly;wounded Men Seldom Come Home To Die;the Hard Waves See An Arm Flung High;scorn Hits Strong Because Of A Lie;yet There Exists A Mystic Tie.unwind My Riddle.

The Fact Has Not Created In Me A Sense Of Obligation.