If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
<{POST_SNAPBACK}>
I guess sometimes you have to ask the question:"Is ____ worth one good man's life?" As Eldar pointed out before, many things are. I certainly refuse to believe that the soldiers who have given their lives so the people of Europe could live in freedom again were merely children ardent for desperate glory.