DIED OF WOUNDS

DIED OF WOUNDS

His wet, white face and miserable eyes

Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:

But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell

His troubled voice: he did the business well.

The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining,

And calling out for "Dickie." "Curse the Wood!

It's time to go; O Christ, and what's the good?—

We'll never take it; and it's always raining."

I wondered where he'd been; then heard him shout,

"They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don't go out" …

I fell asleep … next morning he was dead;

And some Slight Wound lay smiling on his bed.

II

"THEY"

The Bishop tells us: "When the boys come back

They will not be the same; for they'll have fought

In a just cause: they lead the last attack

On Anti-Christ; their comrade's blood has bought

New right to breed an honourable race.

They have challenged Death and dared him face to face."

"We're none of us the same!" the boys reply.

"For George lost both his legs; and Bill's stone blind;

Poor Jim's shot through the lungs and like to die;

And Bert's gone syphilitic: you'll not find

A chap who's served that hasn't found some change."

And the Bishop said; "The ways of God are strange!"