There was no chimney in the camp,
The one to which we would arrive,
So though the straw was urine-damp,
We were relieved to be alive.
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Even mercies harken pain
As being deloused afore asleep,
Standing naked in the rain
Like icicles a-drip, a-heap.
The only mortgage is to die.
a very fine poem. tony
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Even mercies harken pain As being deloused afore asleep, Standing naked in the rain Like icicles a-drip, a-heap. The only mortgage is to die. a very fine poem. tony