EPITAPH
Where the long trench twines snake-likeTo keep the foe at bay,There be the place to lay me,And this be what you say:
Here lieth one who loved all life,Sunshine and song, and sword and strife;Sea and storm, and wind and rain,Breaking bud, and bursting grain,Pulsing pleasure, and stabbing pain—Who would, an he could, live all over again!
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