Youth truth and Passchendaele

Hell is now for me a place where I breathe the last dregs of England out of my lungs, and the last trembling flare in the hand of the unknown solider dies.

For the poet dreamer who wished, “All evil shed away,”
that very evil now walks among us and is welcomed.
So what of those ancient young, what of their sacrifice?
The Somme, Ypres, Flanders fields?
Mud will talk, God is not dumb.

Into vain cities the young of today ride with new chariots and acid guns.

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