I Am A Soldier, Convinced That I

And The Wind Upon Its Way Whispered The Boughs Of May, And Touched The Nodding Peony Flowers To Bid Them Waken.

I Have Seen And Endured The Sufferings Of The Troops, And I Can No Longer Be A Party To Prolong These Sufferings For Ends Which I Believe To Be Evil And Unjust.

But I've Grown Thoughtful Now. And You Have Lost Your Early-morning Freshness Of Surprise At Being So Utterly Mine: You've Learned To Fear The Gloomy, Stricken Places In My Soul, And The Occasional Ghosts That Haunt My Gaze.

Soldiers Are Dreamers; When The Guns Begin They Think Of Firelit Homes, Clean Beds, And Wives.

Man, It Seemed, Had Been Created To Jab The Life Out Of Germans.