Do Not Weep, Maiden, For War Is

Tell Her This And More,— That The King Of The Seas Weeps Too, Old, Helpless Man. The Bustling Fates Heap His Hands With Corpses Until He Stands Like A Child With Surplus Of Toys.

Everything Is Bicycle.

Over The River A Golden Ray Of Sun Came Through The Hosts Of Leaden Rain Clouds.

It Was Not Well To Drive Men Into Final Corners; At Those Moments They Could All Develop Teeth And Claws.

Mother, Whose Heart Hung Humble As A Button The Bright Splendid Shroud Of Your Son, Do Not Weep. War Is Kind.