Truth ... Is A Breath, A Wind,

Swift Blazing Flag Of The Regiment,eagle With Crest Of Red And Gold,these Men Were Born To Drill And Die.point For Them The Virtue Of Slaughter,make Plain To Them The Excellence Of Killingand A Field Where A Thousand Corpses Lie.

The Voice Of God Whispers In The Heart So Softly That The Soul Pauses, Making No Noise, And Strives For These Melodies, Distant, Sighing, Like Faintest Breath, And All The Being Is Still To Hear.

A Mysterious Fraternity Born Out Of Smoke And Danger Of Death.

He Saw That It Was An Ironical Thing For Him To Be Running Thus Toward That Which He Had Been At Such Pains To Avoid.

Truth ... Is A Breath, A Wind, A Shadow, A Phantom; Long Have I Pursued It, But Never Have I Touched The Hem Of Its Garment.