I Find Purer Philosophy In A Poem

I Dreamed Kind Jesus Fouled The Big-gun Gears; And Caused A Permanent Stoppage In All Bolts; And Buckled With A Smile Mausers And Colts; And Rusted Every Bayonet With His Tears.

The Marvel Is That We Did Not All Die Of Cold. As A Matter Of Fact, Only One Of My Party Actually Froze To Death Before He Could Be Got Back, But I Am Not Able To Tell How Many Have Ended Up In Hospital. We Were Marooned In A Frozen Desert. There Was Not A Sign Of Life On The Horizon And A Thousand Signs Of Death.

Sweet And Fitting It Is To Die For The Fatherland.

Whatever Mourns When Many Leave These Shores: Whatever Shares The Eternal Reciprocity Of Tears.

So Secretly, Like Wrongs Hushed-up, They Went.