![]() May creep back, silent, to still village wells Up half-known roads. |
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![]() A ram caught in a thicket by its horns; Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him. But the old man would not so, but slew his son... |
![]() Gently its touch awoke him once, At home, whispering of fields unsown. Always it woke him, even in France, Until this morning and this snow. |
![]() My fingers fidget like ten idle brats, My back's been stiff for hours, damned hours. Death never gives his squad a Stand-at-ease. |
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![]() Of gravers scoring it with florid screed. Let my inscription be this soldier's disc. Wear it, sweet friend. Inscribe no date nor deed. But may thy heart-beat kiss it, night and day, Until the name grow blurred and fade away. |
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![]() All death will he annul, all tears assuage? Or fill these void veins full again with youth And wash with an immortal water age? |
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