O German Mother Dreaming By The Fire,

Mud And Rain And Wretchedness And Blood. Why Should Jolly Soldier-boys Complain? God Made These Before The Roofless Flood - Mud And Rain.

Man, It Seemed, Had Been Created To Jab The Life Out Of Germans.

I Didn't Want To Die - Not Before I'd Finished Reading The Return Of The Native Anyhow.

December Stillness, Teach Me Through Your Trees That Loom Along The West, One With The Land, The Veiled Evangel Of Your Mysteries. While Nightfall, Sad And Spacious, On The Down Deepens, And Dusk Embues Me Where I Stand, With Grave Diminishings Of Green And Brown, Speak, Roofless Nature, Your Instinctive Words; And Let Me Learn Your Secret From The Sky, Following A Flock Of Steadfast-journeying Birds In Lone Remote Migration Beating By. December Stillness, Crossed By Twilight Roads, Teach Me To Travel Far And Bear My Loads.

His Wet White Face And Miserable Eyesbrought Nurses To Him More Than Groans And Sighs:but Hoarse And Low And Rapid Rose And Fellhis Troubled Voice: He Did The Business Well.(first Verse Of Died Of Wounds)