I SIT in a chair and read the newspapers. Millions of men go to war, acres of them are buried, guns and ships broken, cities burned, villages sent up in smoke, and children where cows are killed off amid hoarse barbecues vanish like finger-rings of smoke in a north wind. I sit in a chair and read the newspapers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOVEMBER BLUE by ALICE MEYNELL BRONZE TRUMPETS AND SEA WATER; ON TURNING LATIN VERSE INTO ENGLISH by ELINOR WYLIE A STREET SKETCH by JOSEPH ASHBY-STERRY THE COMING by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |