The Old Lie:dulce Et Decorum Est Pro

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.

I Was A Boy When I First Realized That The Fullest Life Liveable Was A Poet's

Winter Song The Browns, The Olives, And The Yellows Died, And Were Swept Up To Heaven; Where They Glowed Each Dawn And Set Of Sun Till Christmastide, And When The Land Lay Pale For Them, Pale-snowed, Fell Back, And Down The Snow-drifts Flamed And Flowed. From Off Your Face, Into The Winds Of Winter, The Sun-brown And The Summer-gold Are Blowing; But They Shall Gleam With Spiritual Glinter, When Paler Beauty On Your Brows Falls Snowing, And Through Those Snows My Looks Shall Be Soft-going.

The English Say, Yours Truly, And Mean It. The Italians Say, I Kiss Your Feet, And Mean, I Kick Your Head.

For By My Glee Might Many Men Have Laughed, And Of My Weeping May Something Have Been Left, Which Must Die Now.