SO Davies wrote: 'This leaves me in the pink'. Then scrawled his name: 'Your loving sweetheart, Willie'. With crosses for a hug. He'd had a drink Of rum and tea; and, though the barn was chilly, For once his blood ran warm; he had pay to spend. Winter was passing; soon the year would mend. But he couldn't sleep that night; stiff in the dark He groaned and thought of Sundays at the farm, And how he'd go as cheerful as a lark In his best suit, to wander arm in arm With brown-eyed Gwen, and whisper in her ear The simple, silly things she liked to hear. And then he thought: to-morrow night we trudge Up to the trenches, and my boots are rotten. Five miles of stodgy clay and freezing sludge, And everything but wretchedness forgotten. To-night he's in the pink; but soon he'll die. And still the war goes on -- he don't know why. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HERITAGE by GWENDOLYN B. BENNETT NURSE'S SONG, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE IN THIS DARK HOUSE by EDWARD DAVISON THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER THE DAYS GONE BY by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 5 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |