I Don't Really Feel My Poems Are

When I'm Killed, Don't Think Of Me Buried There In Cambrin Wood, Nor As In Zion Think Of Me With The Intolerable Good. And There's One Thing That I Know Well, I'm Damned If I'll Be Damned To Hell!

Take Your Delight In Momentariness, Walk Between Dark And Dark A Shining Space With The Grave 's Narrowness, Though Not Its Peace.

I Made No More Protests. What Was The Use Of Struggling Against Fate

We Once Discussed Which Were The Cleanest Troops In The Trenches, Taken By Nationalities. We Agreed On A Descending-order Like This: English And German Protestants; Northern Irish, Welsh And Canadians; Irish And German Catholics; Scots; Mohammedan Indians; Algerians; Portugese; Belgians; French. We Put The Belgians And French There For Spite; They Could Not Have Been Dirtier Than The Algerians And The Portugese.

One Smile Relieves A Heart That Grieves.