I never dreamed we’d meet that day In our old haunts down Fricourt w… Plotting such marvellous journeys… For jolly old “Après—la—guerre.” Well, when it’s over, first we’ll…

‘Make a song, father, a new little… All for Jenny and Nancy.’ Balow lalow or Hey derry down, Or else what might you fancy? Is there any song sweet enough

At Viscount Nelson’s lavish funer… While the mob milled and yelled ab… A General chatted with an Admiral… “One of your colleagues, Sir, rem… That Nelson’s exit, though to be…

Gulp down your wine, old friends o… Roar through the darkness, stamp a… And lay ghost hands on everything, But leave the noonday’s warm sunsh… To living lads for mirth and wine.

In my body lives a flame, Flame that burns me all the day; When a fierce sun does the same, I am charred away. Who could keep a smiling wit,

Penthesileia, dead of profuse wond… Was despoiled of her arms by Prin… Who, for love of that fierce white… Necrophily on her committed In the public view.

Henry, Henry, do you love me? Do I love you, Mary? Oh, can you mean to liken me To the aspen tree. Whose leaves do shake and vary,

Love without hope, as when the you… Swept off his tall hat to the Squ… So let the imprisoned larks escape… Singing about her head, as she rod…

The great sun sinks behind the tow… Through a red mist of Volnay wine… But what’s the use of setting down That glorious blaze behind the tow… You’ll only skip the page, you’ll…

Listen now this time Shortly to my rhyme That herewith starts About certain kind hearts In those stricken parts

Entrance and exit wounds are silve… The track aches only when the rain… The one—legged man forgets his leg… The one—armed man his jointed wood… The blinded man sees with his ears…

Now I begin to know at last, These nights when I sit down to r… The form and measure of that vast God we call Poetry, he who stoops And leaps me through his paper hoo…