... the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

On the side of a hill in the deep forest green
Tracing of sparrow on snow-crested brown
Blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain
Sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill a sprinkling of leaves
Washes the grave with silvery tears.
A soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows blazing in scarlet battalions.
Generals order their soldiers to kill
And to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten.