Like Strength Is Felt From Hope, And

Thou Shalt Not Horn In On Thy Husbands Racket

Down From His Brow She Ran His Curls Like Thick Hyacinth Clusters Full Of Blooms

There Is Satiety In All Things, In Sleep, And Love-making, In The Loveliness Of Singing And The Innocent Dance.

The Skin Of The Coward Changes Color All The Time, He Can't Get A Grip On Himself, He Can't Sit Still, He Squats And Rocks, Shifting His Weight From Foot To Foot, His Heart Racing, Pounding Inside The Fellow's Ribs, His Teeth Chattering. He Dreads Some Grisly Death. But The Skin Of A Brave Soldier Never Blanches. He's All Control. Tense But No Great Fear.

How Prone To Doubt, How Cautious Are The Wise!