Oh, when I was in love with you, / Then I was clean and brave.
From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I
But men at whiles are sober / And think by fits and starts, / And if they think, they fasten / Their hands upon their hearts.
We for a certainty are not the first have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed whatever brute and blackguard made the world.
This is for all ill-treated fellows - Unborn and unbegot, For them to read when they're in trouble And I am not
Made of earth and sea / His overcoat for ever, / And wears the turning globe.
Then the world seemed none so bad, and I myself a sterling lad. And down in lovely muck I've lain, happy - till I woke up again.
Before the war ended common sense had rescued me from any belief that war could do the human race, or my country, any good whatever.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; / Breath's a ware that will not keep. / Up, lad; when the journey's over / There'll be time enough for sleep.
Lovers lying two by two / Ask not whom they sleep beside, / And the bridegroom all night through / Never turns him to the bride.
