Let Me Into The Darkness

Do Not Weep, Maiden, For War Is Kind. Because Your Lover Threw Wild Hands Toward The Sky And The Affrighted Steed Ran On Alone, Do Not Weep. War Is Kind. Hoarse, Booming Drums Of The Regiment, Little Souls Who Thirst For Fight, These Men Were Born To Drill And Die. The Unexplained Glory Flies Above Them, Great Is The Battle-god, Great, And His Kingdom -a Field Where A Thousand Corpses Lie. Do Not Weep, Babe, For War Is Kind.

There Is Nothing- No Life, No Joy, No Pain- There Is Nothing Save Opinion, And Opinion Be Damned.

And It Was As If Fate Had Betrayed The Soldier. In Death It Exposed To His Enemies That Poverty Which In Life He Had Perhaps Concealed From His Friends.

A Learned Man Came To Me Once. He Said, "i Know The Way, -- Come." And I Was Overjoyed At This. Together We Hastened. Soon, Too Soon, Were We Where My Eyes Were Useless, And I Knew Not The Ways Of My Feet. I Clung To The Hand Of My Friend; But At Last He Cried, "i Am Lost.

The Word Is Clear Only To The Kind Who On Peak Or Plain, From Dark Northern Ice-fields To The Hot Wet Jungles, Through All Wine And Want, Through Lies And Unfamiliar Truth, Dark Or Light, Are Governed By The Unknown Gods, And Though Each Man Knows The Law, No Man May Give Tongue To It.