And By His Smile, I Knew That

My Friend, You Would Not Tell With Such High Zest To Children Ardent For Some Desperate Glory. The Old Lie: It Is Sweet And Fitting That You Should Die For Your Country.

The War Affects Me Less Than It Ought. But I Can Do No Service To Anybody By Agitating For News Or Making Dole Over The Slaughter.

Do You Know What Would Hold Me Together On A Battlefield? The Sense That I Was Perpetuating The Language In Which Keats And The Rest Of Them Wrote!

What Passing-bells For These Who Die As Cattle? Only The Monstrous Anger Of The Guns.

All The Poet Can Do Today Is Warn. That Is Why True Poets Must Be Truthful.