I Thought Of All That Worked Dark

So Secretly, Like Wrongs Hushed-up, They Went.

The Old Lie:dulce Et Decorum Est Pro Patria Mori.

As Bronze May Be Much Beautified By Lying In The Dark Damp Soil, So Men Who Fade In Dust Of Warfare Fade Fairer, And Sorrow Blooms Their Soul.

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

Sweet And Fitting It Is To Die For The Fatherland.