Poem to a Dead Soldier by Langston Hughes — Read

"Death is a whore who consorts with all men."

Ice-cold passion / And a bitter breath / Adorned the bed / Of Youth and Death --

Youth, the young soldier / Who went to the wars / And embraced white Death, / The vilest of whores.

Now we spread roses / Over your tomb --

We who sent you / To your doom.

Now we make soft speeches / And sob soft cries / And throw soft flowers / And utter soft lies.

We mould you in metal / And carve you in stone, / Not daring make statue / Of your dead flesh and bone, / Not daring to mention / The bitter breath / Nor the ice-cold passion / Of your love-night with Death.

We make soft speeches.

We sob soft cries / We throw soft flowers, / And utter soft lies.

And you who were young / When you went to the wars / Have lost your youth now / With the vilest of whores.