In me the tiger sniffs the rose.

Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.

Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land, drawing no dividend from time's tomorrows.

And the wind upon its way whispered the boughs of May, And touched the nodding peony flowers to bid them waken.

Let my soul, a shining tree, Silver branches lift towards thee, Where on a hallowed winter's night The clear-eyed angels may alight.

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.

Man, it seemed, had been created to jab the life out of Germans.