In The Years 1910 And 1911 I

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.

The Song Was Wordless; The Singing Will Never Be Done.

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 There'd Be No More Jokes In Music-halls To Mock The Riddled Corpses Round Bapaume.

The Fact Is That Five Years Ago I Was, As Near As Possible, A Different Person To What I Am Tonight. I, As I Am Now, Didn't Exist At All. Will The Same Thing Happen In The Next Five Years? I Hope So.