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.

My subject is war, and the pity of war.

The old happiness is unreturning. Boy's griefs are not so grievous as youth's yearning. Boys have no sadness sadder than our hope.

Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.

Sweet and fitting it is to die for the fatherland.

Courage was mine, and I had mystery, Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery: To miss the march of this retreating world Into vain citadels that are not walled.

The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.