FROM end to end of the bright, airy ward,
From end to end of each delirious day, The wireless whined or hammered, nagged or roared ; That was the pain no drugs could put away. I asked for an hour of silence—half an hour —Ten minutes to die sane. It wasn't granted.
Why should one prig, one high-brow, have the power To stop what all those honest fellows wanted ?
Therefore, oh God, if Paradise, as they tell, Is full of music, oh in mercy save For me one nook of silence, even in Hell ; And therefore, stranger, tiptoe by this grave, And let posterity record of me, " He died both for, and of, democracy." C. S. LEWIS.