When I Begin To Eliminate From The

Futility Move Him Into The Sun - Gently Its Touch Awoke Him Once, At Home, Whispering Of Fields Unsown. Always It Woke Him, Even In France, Until This Morning And This Snow. If Anything Might Rouse Him Now The Kind Old Sun Will Know. Think How It Wakes The Seeds, - Woke, Once, The Clays Of A Cold Star. Are Limbs, So Dear-achieved, Are Sides, Full-nerved -still Warm -too Hard To Stir? Was It For This The Clay Grew Tall? -o What Made Fatuous Sunbeams Toil To Break Earth's Sleep At All?

I Thought Of All That Worked Dark Pits Of War, And Died Digging The Rock Where Death Reputes Peace Lies Indeed.

Those Who, Like The Beasts, Have No Such Hope, Pass Their Old Age Shrouded With An Inward Gloom.

Courage Was Mine, And I Had Mystery, Wisdom Was Mine, And I Had Mastery: To Miss The March Of This Retreating World Into Vain Citadels That Are Not Walled.

My Soul's A Little Grief, Grappling Your Chest, To Climb Your Throat On Sobs; Easily Chased On Other Sighs And Wiped By Fresher Winds.