The Fact Has Not Created In Me

When The Prophet, A Complacent Fat Man, Arrived At The Mountain-top He Cried: "woe To My Knowledge! I Intended To See Good White Lands And Bad Black Lands— But The Scene Is Grey.

If I Am Going To Be Drowned – If I Am Going To Be Drowned – If I Am Going To Be Drowned, Why In The Name Of The Seven Mad Gods Who Rule The Sea, Was I Allowed To Come Thus Far And Contemplate Land And Trees?

Mother, Whose Heart Hung Humble As A Button The Bright Splendid Shroud Of Your Son, Do Not Weep. War Is Kind.

It Was Surprising That Nature Had Gone Tranquilly On With Her Golden Process In The Midst Of So Much Devilment.

Tradition, Thou Art For Suckling Children, Thou Art The Enlivening Milk For Babes, But No Meat For Men Is In Thee.