Be Bullied, Be Outraged, By Killed, But

And Some Cease Feeling Even Themselves Or For Themselves. Dullness Best Solves The Tease And Doubt Of Shelling

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.

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

The Centuries Will Burn Rich Loads With Which We Groaned, Whose Warmth Shall Lull Their Dreaming Lids, While Songs Are Crooned: But They Will Not Dream Of Us Poor Lads, Left In The Ground.

The Universal Pervasion Of Ugliness, Hideous Landscapes, Vile Noises, Foul Language...everything. Unnatural, Broken, Blasted; The Distortion Of The Dead, Whose Unburiable Bodies Sit Outside The Dug Outs All Day, All Night, The Most Execrable Sights On Earth. In Poetry We Call Them The Most Glorious.