Be Bullied, Be Outraged, By Killed, But

My Subject Is War, And The Pity Of War.

The Pallor Of Girls' Brows Shall Be Their Pall; Their Flowers The Tenderness Of Patient Minds, And Each Slow Dusk A Drawing-down Of Blinds.

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

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.

Never Fear: Thank Home, And Poetry, And The Force Behind Both.