When The Suicide Arrived At The Sky,

When The Prophet, A Complacent Fat Man, Arrived At The Mountain-top He Cried: "woe To My Knowledge! I Intended To See Good White Lands And Bad Black Lands— But The Scene Is Grey.

And It Was As If Fate Had Betrayed The Soldier. In Death It Exposed To His Enemies That Poverty Which In Life He Had Perhaps Concealed From His Friends.

A Mysterious Fraternity Born Out Of Smoke And Danger Of Death.

The Word Is Clear Only To The Kind Who On Peak Or Plain, From Dark Northern Ice-fields To The Hot Wet Jungles, Through All Wine And Want, Through Lies And Unfamiliar Truth, Dark Or Light, Are Governed By The Unknown Gods, And Though Each Man Knows The Law, No Man May Give Tongue To It.

He Vaguely Desired To Walk Around And Around The Body And Stare; The Impulse Of The Living To Try To Read In Dead Eyes The Answer To The Question.