A BoyOut of the noise of tired people working,Harried with thoughts of war and lists of dead,His beauty met me like a fresh wind blowing,Clean boyish beauty and high-held head.Eyes that told secrets, lips that would not tell them,Fearless and shy the young unwearied eyes--Men die by millions now, because God blunders,Yet to have made this boy he must be wise.
-Sara Teasdale
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