Laugh like old men with senses atrophied,
Heeding no Present, to the Future dead,
Nodding quite foolish by the warm fireside
And seeing no flame, but only in the red
And flickering embers, pictures of the past:—
Life like a cinder fading black at last.
SONNET
(To One Killed in Action)
My undevout yet ardent sacrifice
Did God refuse, knowing how carelessly
And with what curious sensuality