An Austrian army awfully arrayed.

An Austrian army awfully arrayed.

"Why me?" That is the soldier's first question, asked each morning as the patrols go out and each evening as read more

"Why me?" That is the soldier's first question, asked each morning as the patrols go out and each evening as the night settles around the foxholes.

And the king of Israel answered and said, Tell him, Let not him
that girdeth on his harness boast read more

And the king of Israel answered and said, Tell him, Let not him
that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that putteth it
off.

Chief among our gains must be reckoned this possibility of choice, the recognition of many possible ways of life, where read more

Chief among our gains must be reckoned this possibility of choice, the recognition of many possible ways of life, where other civilizations give a satisfactory outlet to only one temperamental type, be he mystic or soldier, businessman or artist, a civilization in which there are many standards offers a possibility of satisfactory adjustment to individuals of many different temperamental types, of diverse gifts, and varying interests.

Terrible he rode alone,
With his yemen sword for aid;
Ornament it carried none
read more

Terrible he rode alone,
With his yemen sword for aid;
Ornament it carried none
But the notches on the blade.

For the army is a school in which the miser becomes generous, and
the generous prodigal; miserly soldiers are read more

For the army is a school in which the miser becomes generous, and
the generous prodigal; miserly soldiers are like monsters, but
very rarely seen.

You led our sons across the haunted flood,
Into the Canaan of their high desire--
No milk read more

You led our sons across the haunted flood,
Into the Canaan of their high desire--
No milk and honey there, but tears and blood
Flowed where the hosts of evil trod in fire,
And left a worse than desert where they passed.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
. . . read more

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,
By all their country's wishes blest!
. . . .
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.

His breast with wounds unnumber'd riven,
His back to earth, his face to heaven.