To the Unknown Warrior
You whom the kings saluted; who refused
The one great pleasure of ignoble days,
Fame without name and glory without gossip,
Whom no biographer befouls with praise.
Who said of you "Defeated"?
In the
The dug-out where the limelight never comes,
Nor the big drum of Barnum's show can
That vibrant stillness after all the drums.
Though the time comes when every Yankee
Can use our soldiers for its sandwich-men,
When those that pay the piper call the tune,
You will not dance.
You will not move again.
You will not march for Fatty Arbuckle,
Though he have yet a favourable press,
Tender as San Francisco to St.
Or all the angels of Los Angeles.
They shall not storm the last unfallen fortress,
The lonely castle where uncowed and free,
Dwells the unknown and undefeated
That did alone defeat Publicity.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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The Song of the Strange Ascetic
If I had been a Heathen, I'd have praised the purple vine, My slaves should dig the vineyards, And I would drink the wine
Ecclesiastes
There is one sin: to call a green leaf gray, Whereat the sun in heaven shuddereth There is one blasphemy: for death to pray, For God alone knoweth the praise of death There is one creed: ’’neath no world-terror’s wing Apples forget to gr...
The Englishman
St George he was for England, And before he killed the dragon He drank a pint of English ale Out of an English flagon For though he fast right readily In hair-shirt or in mail, It isn't safe to give him cakes Unless you give him ale
Lepanto
White founts falling in the courts of the sun, And the Soldan of Byzantium is smiling as they run; There is laughter like the fountains in that face of all men feared, It stirs the forest darkness, the darkness of his beard,
