The world is very lovely, and it's very horrible — and it doesn't care about your life or mine or anything else. - Rudyard Kipling

In the flush of the hot June prime,
O'ersleek flood-tides afire,
I hear him hurry the chime
To the bidding of checked Desire;
Till the sweated ringers tire
And the wild bob-majors die.
Could I wait for my turn in the godly choir?
(Shoal! 'Ware shoal!) Not I!

They've taken of his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the mornin'.

There's a Legion that never was 'listed,
That carries no colours or crest,
But, split in a thousand detachments,
Is breaking the road for the rest.