The birds that sang to make the day awake;
Have spread their wings and flew away hurridly;
And the sun that rose to meet the dawn has truly forlorn the sight of something;
Hath saw landscapes polluted with the blood of these men that are now gone for good;
At this moment the moon is shining upon the barrens;
Blood glares from the grassy fields we fight on;
But now all is quiet on the western front