These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.

These men are worth your tears. You are not worth their merriment.

Above all I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.

I am not concerned with Poetry. My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity. Yet these elegies are to this generation in no sense conciliatory. They may be to the next. All a poet can do today is warn. That is why the true Poets must be truthful.

Escape? There is one unwatched way: your eyes. O Beauty! Keep me good that secret gate.

I, too, saw God through mud

I don't ask myself, is the life congenial to me? But, am I fitted for, am I called to, the Ministry?