I Am A Soldier, Convinced

Everyone Suddenly Burst Out Singing; And I Was Filled With Such Delight As Prisoned Birds Must Find In Freedom, Winging Wildly Across The White Orchards And Dark-green Fields; On—on—and Out Of Sight. Everyone’s Voice Was Suddenly Lifted; And Beauty Came Like The Setting Sun: My Heart Was Shaken With Tears; And Horror Drifted Away ... O, But Everyone Was A Bird; And The Song Was Wordless; The Singing Will Never Be Done.

And It's Been Proved That Soldiers Don't Go Mad Unless They Lose Control Of Ugly Thoughts That Drive Them Out To Jabber Among The Trees.

I Am Not Protesting Against The Conduct Of The War, But Against The Political Errors And Insincerities For Which The Fighting Men Are Being Sacrificed.

Let My Soul, A Shining Tree, Silver Branches Lift Towards Thee, Where On A Hallowed Winter's Night The Clear-eyed Angels May Alight.

Soldiers Are Citizens Of Death's Grey Land, Drawing No Dividend From Time's Tomorrows.