Poetic trifles from solitary rambles whilst chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy..now written from memory, confined to fourteen lines, this seemed best adapted to the unity of sentiment, the verse flowed in unpremeditated harmony as my ear directed but are far from being mere elegiac couplets.
Yet true it is as cow chews cud, And trees at spring do yield forth bud, Except wind stands as never it stood, It is an ill wind turns none to good.thomas tusser
Chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy.
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. See Horace 413:23.wilfred owen