None of them knew the color of the sky. - Stephen Crane

Mother, whose heart hung humble as a button the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.

The conceit of man was explained by this storm to be the very engine of life.

"XX

A learned man came to me once.
He said, "I know the way, - come."
And I was overjoyed at this.
Together we hastened,
Soon, too soon, were we
Where my eyes were useless,
And I knew not the ways of me feet.
I clung to the hand of my friend;
But at last he cried, "I am lost.