Happy Are Men Who Yet Before They

Strange Friend,' I Said,'here Is No Cause To Mourn.' 'none,'said The Other,'save The Undone Years, The Hopelessness.whatever Hope Is Yours Was My Life Also; I Went Hunting Wild After The Wildest Beauty In The World.

The Universal Pervasion Of Ugliness, Hideous Landscapes, Vile Noises, Foul Language...everything. Unnatural, Broken, Blasted; The Distortion Of The Dead, Whose Unburiable Bodies Sit Outside The Dug Outs All Day, All Night, The Most Execrable Sights On Earth. In Poetry We Call Them The Most Glorious.

Escape? There Is One Unwatched Way: Your Eyes. O Beauty! Keep Me Good That Secret Gate.

For By My Glee Might Many Men Have Laughed, And Of My Weeping May Something Have Been Left, Which Must Die Now.

What Passing-bells For These Who Die As Cattle? Only The Monstrous Anger Of The Guns.