He even stands staring at the different tempers created in him by self-seeking and self-devotion.
"Oh love of woman, you are known to be
A passion sent to plague the hearts of men;
For every one you bring felicity
Bringing rebuffs and wretchedness to ten.
I have been oft where human life sold cheap
And seen men's brains spilled out about their ears
And yet that never cost me any sleep;
I lived untroubled and I shed no tears.
Fools prate how war is an atrocious thing;
I always knew that nothing it implied
Equalled the agony and suffering
Of him who loves and loves unsatisfied.
War is a refuge to a heart like this;
Love only tells it what true torture is."
Playing his part with the best at the Front, he was by no means merely acting a Message to America in order to bring her into line. He really loved France and understood something of what she stands for in civilisation. He is compact with generosity which is none the less real for being self-appreciated.
"O friends, in your fortunate present ease
(Yet faced by the self-same facts as these),
If you would see how a race can soar
That has no love, but no fear of war,
How each can turn from his private rôle
That all may act as a perfect whole,
How men can live up to the place they claim,
And a nation jealous of its good name,
Be true to its proud inheritance,
Oh, look over here and learn from France!"
And he too seeks to think well of Death, and, having most fancied himself as a lover, thinks himself "half in love with" glorious Death.
