No-man's Land Under Snow Is Like The

All Theological Lore Is Becoming Distasteful To Me.

If I Have To Be A Soldier I Must Be A Good One, Anything Else Is Unthinkable

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.

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

I Thought Of All That Worked Dark Pits Of War, And Died Digging The Rock Where Death Reputes Peace Lies Indeed.