Text to Go: Poetry of Witness
Now light the candles; one; two; there's a moth;What silly beggars they are to blunder inAnd scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame—No, no, not that,—it's bad to think of war,When thoughts you've gagged all day come back to scare you;And it's been proved that soldiers don't go madUnless they lose control of ugly thoughtsThat drive them out to jabber among the trees. Now light your pipe; look, what a steady...