In Which Your Humble Blogger is unsure what category to call this. I mean, I could turn it into a Book report, I suppose, as I read the thing just to be sure.
Dirge for a Soldier by George Henry Boker Close his eyes; his work is done!What to him is friend or foeman?Rise of moon, or set of sun,Hand of man, or kiss of woman?Lay him low, lay him lowIn the clover…
In Which Your Humble Blogger could imagine Bertie being tricked into wearing one by Madeline Bassett, thus causing Roderick Spode to threaten to pound him into jelly, but I cannot imagine Bertie actually choosing to wear one with deliberation and understanding.
In Which Your Humble Blogger looked for something perhaps a little less brutal than is often posted here for the remembrance, if still, you know, about the effects of war.
“The Song of the Mud”, Mary Borden, 1917.
In Which Your Humble Blogger whistles in the dark.
In Which Your Humble Blogger has but a broken poem, to be seen through tears.