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[Page 134]

He sings of War with a minstrels glee
Of fields where harvests of hate lie spread
Of sounds and smells, and of sights they see
Who [indecipherable]  only the pardoned Dead
His Joy is in Ugliness -  armored cars
That crush men down in the poisoned mire
He sings of a night without/devoid  of stars
He sings of a sun  devoid of  fire/withouthis fire.

For, mark you, Rovanne has been & seen
This madness crept to the brain of Rovanne
Where gun fought gun & in filth between
The man-beast grappled his Brother man
He prayed for Death but he prayed in vain
He faced Truth fairly & eye to  eye.
Then laughter sprang in his eyes again
And he laughed & no longer had mind to die.

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