Day 260: Medals

by Bee September. 17, 2010 1710 views

“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 talk with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.”

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Joanne 9 years ago

great post! so memorable!

9 years ago Edited
David Cardona 9 years ago

sUpErb!

9 years ago Edited
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