All a poet can do today is warn.

“You shall not hear their mirth:You shall not come to think them well contentBy …”

“As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fad…”

“Dulce Et Decorum EstBent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, cou…”

“O what made fatuous sunbeams toilTo break earth's sleep at all?”