Mother whose heart hung humble as a button On the bright splendid shroud of your son, Do not weep. War is kind!
They were no longer living men and troops, but a dream drifting in a fog, a mystery…
Death by fire and water: John Donne
By the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand
Commanding Officers; plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.
Since I got the news that you were coming back, Twice I have mounted to the high wall of your home.
He goes, god of battles, the stars in his stride run, run from the death-blow!