Our God and soldier we alike adore,
When at the brink of ruin, not before;
After deliverance read more

Our God and soldier we alike adore,
When at the brink of ruin, not before;
After deliverance both alike requited,
Our God forgotten, and our soldiers slighted.

God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we read more

God of our fathers, known of old,
Lord of our far-flung battle-line,
Beneath whose awful Hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine--
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget--lest we forget!

The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies;
The dew dries up; read more

The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entomb'd in autumn lies;
The dew dries up; the star is shot;
The flight is past--and man forgot.

God and the Doctor we alike adore
But only when in danger, not before;
The danger o'er, read more

God and the Doctor we alike adore
But only when in danger, not before;
The danger o'er, both are alike requited,
God is forgotten, and the Doctor slighted.

Nobody is forgotten when it is convenient to remember him.

Nobody is forgotten when it is convenient to remember him.

And have you been to Borderland?
Its country lies on either hand
Beyond the river I-forget.
read more

And have you been to Borderland?
Its country lies on either hand
Beyond the river I-forget.
One crosses by a single stone
So narrow one must pass alone,
And all about its waters fret--
The laughing river I-forget.

It is sometimes expedient to forget what you know.
[Lat., Etiam oblivisci quod scis interdum expedit.]

It is sometimes expedient to forget what you know.
[Lat., Etiam oblivisci quod scis interdum expedit.]

Mistakes remember'd are not faults forgot.
- Robert H. Newell (used pseudonym Orpheus C. Kerr),

Mistakes remember'd are not faults forgot.
- Robert H. Newell (used pseudonym Orpheus C. Kerr),

We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not read more

We bury love,
Forgetfulness grows over it like grass;
That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.