To be a sieve was to lack clinical judgment, courage, and group loyalty all at once.

Red o'er the forest glows the setting sun, / The line of yellow light dies fast away / That crown'd the eastern copse, and chill and dun / Falls on the moor the brief November day.

Save you out of whacked collapsed debris of bittersome mess of failures.

Grazers have a lower level of involvement and view only when something is happening.