The men said ‘My dear fellow,’ and did nothing.

Forshrunk with heat the ladies eke to-brent, …

I myself was, about two years since, strangely cured of a violent quotidian, which all the wonted method of physick had not so much abated, by applying to my wrists a mixture of two handfuls of bay-salt, two handfuls of the freshest English hops, and a quarter of a pound of blue currants […]

Ives can use music to editorialize, hence In Flanders Fields and its bitter antiwar noisemaking.