I was killed seven times, but I still fought again

      To groves always men come both to their joys and their undoing. Come lightfoot in heart's ease and school-free; walk on a leafy holiday with kindred and kind; come perplexedly with first loves—to tread the tangle frustrated, striking—bruising the green.
      Come on night's fall for ambuscade.
Find harbour with a remnant.
Share with the proscribed their unleavened cake.
      Come for sweet princes by malignant interests deprived.
Wait, wait long for—
with the broken men, nest with badger and the marten-cat till such time as he come again, crying the waste for his chosen.
      Or come in gathering nuts and may;
or run want-wit in a shirt for the queen's unreason.
Beat boys-bush with Robin and Bobin.
      Come with Merlin in his madness, for the pity of it; for the young men reaped like green barley,
for the folly of it.
      Seek a way separate and more strait.
      Keep date with the genius of the place—come with a weapon or effectual branch—and here this winter copse might well be special to Diana's Jack, for none might attempt it, but by perilous bough-plucking.
—David Jones, In Parenthesis (1937)