[pidget-devel] nce and would have beaten up the bushes

[Dejesus <spo...@ki...>]

E world was at war, and that big and little nations were fighting. In my
dream the round earth hung before me against the background of the
night, and red flames shot from every part. I heard cries of
anguish--men blinded by gases and crazed by suffering. I saw women
dressed in black--a long procession stretching hideously from mist to
mist--walking with erect heads, dry-eyed, for grief had starved them of
tears. I saw ships sinking and a thousand arms raised for a moment above
the waves. I saw children lying dead among their toys. And I saw boys
throw down their books and tools and go off with glad cries, and men I
saw, grown gray with despair, staggering under heavy weights. There were
millions of dead upon the earth that hung before me, and I smelled the
battlefield. And I beheld one man--one hundred men--secure in an
outlawed country--who looked from far windows--men bitter with
disappointment--men who blasphemed of God, while their victims rotted in
Flanders. And in my dream it seemed that I did not have a sword, but
that I, too, looked upon the battle from a place where there were no
flames. I ran little errands for the war. * * * * * There is the
familiar window--that dull outline across the room. Here is the
accustomed door. The bed is set between. It was but a dream after all.
And yet how it has shaken me! Of course the dream was absurd. No man--no
nation certainly--could be so mad