I Am Not Protesting Against

You Smug-faced Crowds With Kindling Eye Who Cheer When Soldier Lads March By, Sneak Home And Pray You'll Never Know The Hell Where Youth And Laughter Go.

The Song Was Wordless; The Singing Will Never Be Done.

The Visionless Officialized Fatuitythat Once Kept Europe Safe For Perpetuity.

For It Is Humanly Certain That Most Of Us Remember Very Little Of What We Have Read. To Open Almost Any Book A Second Time Is To Be Reminded That We Had Forgotten Well-nigh Everything That The Writer Told Us. Parting From The Narrator And His Narrative, We Retain Only A Fading Impression; And He, As It Were, Takes The Book Away From Us And Tucks It Under His Arm.

And The Wind Upon Its Way Whispered The Boughs Of May, And Touched The Nodding Peony Flowers To Bid Them Waken.