I'D been on duty from two till four. I went and stared at the dug-out door. Down in the frowst I heard them snore. 'Stand to!' Somebody grunted and swore. Dawn was misty; the skies were still; Larks were singing, discordant, shrill; They seemed happy; but I felt ill. Deep in water I splashed my way Up the trench to our bogged front line. Rain had fallen the whole damned night. O Jesus, send me a wound to-day, And I'll believe in Your bread and wine, And get my bloody old sins washed white! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COLUMBIAN ODE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE PITY OF IT by THOMAS HARDY THE LAST INVOCATION by WALT WHITMAN THE DOOMED OAK; IN IMITATION OF ANATOLE FRANCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN OUR SCARLET KING by HAROLD MARTIN BOWMAN SONNETS OF SEVEN CITIES: NEW YORK by BERTON BRALEY |