Proud, Then, Clear-eyed And Laughing, Go To

Down The Blue Night The Unending Columns Press In Noiseless Tumult, Break And Wave And Flow

War Knows No Power. Safe Shall Be My Going, Secretly Armed Against All Death's Endeavour; Safe Though All Safety's Lost; Safe Where Men Fall; And If These Poor Limbs Die, Safest Of All.

Stands The Church Clock At Ten To Three? And Is There Honey Still For Tea?

But The Best I've Known Stays Here, And Changes, Breaks, Grows Old, Is Blown About The Winds Of The World, And Fades From Brains Of Living Men, And Dies.

These Laid The World Away; Poured Out The Red Sweet Wine Of Youth; Gave Up The Years To Be Of Work And Joy, And That Unhoped Serene, That Men Call Age; And Those Who Would Have Been, Their Sons, They Gave, Their Immortality.