I sometimes think that I have lived too long,
Who have heard so many a gay brave singer's song
Fail him for ever seen so many sails
Lean out resplendent to the evil gales,
Then Death, the wrecker, get his harvest in.
Oh, ill it is, when men lose all, to win ;
Grief though it be to die, 'tis grief yet more
To live and count the dear dead comrades o'er.

Peace. After all you died not. We've no fear
But that, long ages hence, you will be near
A thought by night on the warm wind a breath,
Making for courage, putting old Death,
Living wherever men are not afraid
Of aught but making bravery a parade.
Yes, parleying with fear, they'll pause and say,
'At Gommecourt boys suffered worse that day ' ;
Or, hesitating on some anxious brink,
They will become heroic when they think,
' Did they not rise mortality above
Who staked a lifetime all made sweet with love'