I, Too, Saw God Through Mud

And By His Smile, I Knew That Sullen Hall, By His Dead Smile I Knew We Stood In Hell.

Red Lips Are Not So Red As The Stained Stones Kissed By The English Dead.

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

Walking Abroad, One Is The Admiration Of All Little Boys, And Meets An Approving Glance From Every Eye Of Elderly.

These Men Are Worth Your Tears. You Are Not Worth Their Merriment.