Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice.
Circumstances compel me speak
Ye gods, (for you have them);
From the first of the world
Down to our own time
Don’t frown, don’t shake your head,
Listen to this elegy for a passing time instead.,
A soldier silenced, banned, expelled, made dead.
While life continues, makes the crops no longer joyous.
The sheep forgot, the cattle, bees unkept.
Be thrifty with feelings, words, we were taught,
Seek to cultivate the goodness of mankind
Feel free. Express yourself. Be yourself.
Fauns and Dryads allow us to sing with unfettered
Fertility in sun or snow or drear November weather.
We left our native towns and easy afternoons,
And went to war. Why?
When now we are spat upon by those who chose civilian life,
A job, comfort, money, wife.
Gods and goddesses preserve us
From these pacific wretches.
He who calls for help and succour
Relies upon the soldier trim.
Myrtle speaks of loves and losses
The sea and land and sky which covers all the world
Was kept from chaos by these men who wore the uniform of the state
Redemption? It is ne'r too late. .