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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536258" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Smile, Smile, Smile</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned<br>Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)<br>And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.<br>Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned;<br>For, said the paper, &quot;When this war is done<br>The men's first instinct will be making homes.<br>Meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes,<br>It being certain war has just begun.<br>Peace would do wrong to our undying dead, --<br>The sons we offered might regret they died<br>If we got nothing lasting in their stead.<br>We must be solidly indemnified.<br>Though all be worthy Victory which all bought,<br>We rulers sitting in this ancient spot<br>Would wrong our very selves if we forgot<br>The greatest glory will be theirs who fought,<br>Who kept this nation in integrity.&quot;<br>Nation? -- The half-limbed readers did not chafe<br>But smiled at one another curiously<br>Like secret men who know their secret safe.<br>This is the thing they know and never speak,<br>That England one by one had fled to France<br>(Not many elsewhere now save under France).<br>Pictures of these broad smiles appear each week,<br>And people in whose voice real feeling rings<br>Say: How they smile! They're happy now, poor things. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">23rd September 1918.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfred+Owen">Wilfred Owen</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=536258" data-title="Smile, Smile, Smile de Wilfred Owen" data-description="Head to limp head, the sunk-eyed wounded scanned
Yesterday's Mail; the casualties (typed small)
And (large) Vast Booty from our Latest Haul.
Also, they read of Cheap Homes, not yet planned;
For, said the paper, &quot;When this war is done
The men'..."></div>
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