War is sick, cruel, and harsh,

A bedlam of torrid tones,

A putrid crimson marsh,

A symphony of moans and groans.

It is callous, murderous thought,

Vicious contempt and hate,

It is an Angel in a furnace caught,

With a Devil for a mate.

It is filth and rotting waste,

Pain and death and fear,

It is goodness forever defaced,

And bitterness shed as a tear.

It is Nature’s way on the Earth,

Else God’s sordid, mysterious mirth.