Maimed?

He was a poor patriot. To State

And Church, an unproductive tree. But there

On the brow of the hill, within the narrow

Circle of family, where his work was done,

There he was great, because he was himself.

He matched up to the living sounds he was born with.

His life was like a music on muted strings.

So peace be with you, silent warrior,

Who strove and fell in the peasant's little war!

We wont try to probe the ways of his heart.

That's for his Maker, not for us to do.

But I can hold this hope, with little doubt;

He is not maimed now as he stands before his God.

Ibsen's 'Peer Gynt' translated Christopher Fry.