SOLDIERS are citizens of death's grey land, Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they stand, Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows. Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives. Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives. I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats, And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain, Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats, And mocked by hopeless longing to regain Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats, And going to the office in the train. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MR. FLOOD'S PARTY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THRENOS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE HIGHER PANTHEISM by ALFRED TENNYSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 54. AL-KAWI by EDWIN ARNOLD THE OLD LINE FENCE by AMERICUS WELLINGTON BELLAW SONNET: MAN VERSUS ASCETIC. 5 by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON RHOECUS by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF SOMERSET: FIRST SQUIRE (2) by THOMAS CAMPION |