I Don't Ask Myself, Is The Life

It Seemed That Out Of Battle I Escaped Down Some Profound Dull Tunnel, Long Since Scooped Through Granites Which Titanic Wars Had Groined.

Numbers Of The Old People Cannot Read. Those Who Can Seldom Do

I Have Perceived Much Beauty In The Hoarse Oaths That Kept Our Courage Straight; Heard Music In The Silentness Of Duty; Found Peace Where Shell-storms Spouted Reddest Spate.

Sweet And Fitting It Is To Die For The Fatherland.

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