Men—men—men—men—men go mad with watchin’ ’em,
An’ there’s no discharge in the war!
—Kipling.
The Rising Long and Slow Glide
Note: The italicized words are given a long, slow, upward glide.
“Now, then,” cried Squeers, from the bottom of the stairway, “are you going to sleep all day, up there?”
Breathes there a man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,