The Young Soldier It is not death Without hereafter To one in dearth Of life and its laughter, Nor the sweet murder Dealt slow and even Unto the martyr Smiling at heaven: It is the smile Faint as a (waning) myth, Faint, and exceeding small On a boy's murdered mouth.

All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.

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.

Ambition may be defined as the willingness to receive any number of hits on the nose.

Sweet and fitting it is to die for the fatherland.

If I have to be a soldier I must be a good one, anything else is unthinkable

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