His Life, Though None Too Long, Was

Our Breath Is Brief, And Being So Let's Make Our Heaven Here Below, And Lavish Kindness As We Go.

His Life, Though None Too Long, Was Never Dull: Of Woman, Wine And Song Bill Had His Full.

It's Easy To Fight When Everything's Right And You're Mad With The Thrill And The Glory; It's Easy To Cheer When Victory's Near, And Wallow In Fields That Are Gory. It's A Different Song When Everything's Wrong, When You're Feeling Infernally Mortal; When It's Ten Against One, And Hope There Is None, Buck Up, Little Soldier, And Chortle!

I Like To Think That When I Fall, A Rain-drop In Death's Shoreless Sea, This Shelf Of Books Along The Wall, Beside My Bed, Will Mourn For Me.

The Lonely Sunsets Flare Forlorn Down Valleys Dreadly Desolate; The Lonely Mountains Soar In Scorn As Still As Death, As Stern As Fate.