.. . . Would I Were In

Proud, Then, Clear-eyed And Laughing, Go To Greet Death As A Friend!

One May Not Doubt That, Somehow Good Shall Come Of Water And Of Mud; And Sure, The Reverent Eye Must See A Purpose In Liquidity.

The Cool Kindliness Of Sheets, That Soon Smooth Away Trouble; And The Rough Male Kiss Of Blankets.

And In My Flower-beds, I Think, Smile The Carnation And The Pink.

War Knows No Power. Safe Shall Be My Going, Secretly Armed Against All Death's Endeavour; Safe Though All Safety's Lost; Safe Where Men Fall; And If These Poor Limbs Die, Safest Of All.