Mud And Rain And Wretchedness And Blood.

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

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.

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.