The Useless Critic 2.0

On Receiving News of the War Snow is a strange white word. No ice or frost Has asked of bud or bird For Winter's cost. Yet ice and frost and snow From earth to sky This Summer land doth know. No man knows why. In all men's hearts it is. Some spirit old Hath turned with malign kiss Our lives to mould. Red fangs have torn His face. God's blood is shed. He mourns from His lone place His children dead. O! ancient crimson curse! Corrode, consume. Give back this universe Its pristine bloom. Isaac Rosenberg was a poet whose work was admired by Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot. However, he was killed in the Great War and not much of his work remains.  There is still no American World War I memorial. There is a museum, but no memorial.  I thought this picture  was quite touching, but I feel disrespectful including it in my post, so I'll just link to it. 

can give you my thoughts on it as soon as it comes through on this nice public WIFI. I can't tell you where to find the Suburbs but just make your rounds on the internet you should be okay! it all very much reminds me of a poem: IN A STATION OF THE METRO The apparition of these faces in the crowd ; Petals on a wet, black bough. - Ezra Pound, who is more of a Decemberists fan