A poem by Marcus Wylie
River washed upon jungle fever
His sweats were soon to end, and
All that’s beautiful in this death
Is found in a naked breast
Where uniform hurried forth an epitaph
To reward bravery when least expected.
His sweats were soon to end, and
All that’s beautiful in this death
Is found in a naked breast
Where uniform hurried forth an epitaph
To reward bravery when least expected.
