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.
Let no one ever, from henceforth say one word in any way countenancing war.
Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land,
Drawing no dividend from time's tomorrows.
In the great hour of destiny they stand,
Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows.
Who will remember, passing through this Gate,
The unheroic Dead who fed the guns?
I am not protesting against the conduct of the war, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being sacrificed.
From the perpetual silence where the grace
Of human sainthood burns
Hastes he once more to harmonise and heal?
I know not. Only I feel
His influence undiminished
And his life’s work, in me and many, unfinished.