Far from the heart of culture he was used:
Abandoned by his general and his lice,
Under a padded quilt he closed his eyes
And vanished. He will not be introduced
When this campaign is tidied into books:
No vital knowledge perished in his skull;
His jokes were stale; like wartime, he was dull;
His name is lost for ever like his looks.
He neither knew nor chose the Good, but taught us,
And added meaning like a comma, when
He turned to dust in China that our daughters
Be fit to love the earth, and not again
Disgraced before the dogs; that where are waters,
Mountains and houses, may be also men.
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