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The Death-Bed

He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped

Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls;

Aqueous like floating rays of amber light,

Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep.

Silence and safety; and his mortal shore

Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.

Someone was holding water to his mouth.

He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped

Siegfried Sassoon

Alone

I’ve listened: and all the sounds I heard

Were music,—wind, and stream, and bird.

With youth who sang from hill to hill

I’ve listened: my heart is hungry still.

I’ve looked: the morning world was green;

Bright roofs and towers of town I’ve seen;

And stars, wheeling through wingless night.

Siegfried Sassoon

'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 comrades' 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;

Siegfried Sassoon

Trench Duty

Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake,

Out in the trench with three hours’ watch to take,

I blunder through the splashing mirk; and then

Hear the gruff muttering voices of the men

Crouching in cabins candle-chinked with light.

Hark! There’s the big bombardment on our right

Rumbling and bumping; and the dark’s a glare

Of flickering horror in the sectors where

Siegfried Sassoon

Absolution

The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes

Till beauty shines in all that we can see.

War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,

And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.

Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,

And loss of things desired; all these must pass.

We are the happy legion, for we know

Time’s but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

Siegfried Sassoon

To Any Dead Officer

Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you’d say,

Because I’d like to know that you’re all right.

Tell me, have you found everlasting day,

Or been sucked in by everlasting night?

For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain;

I hear you make some cheery old remark—

I can rebuild you in my brain,

Though you’ve gone out patrolling in the dark.

Siegfried Sassoon

Song-Books Of The War

In fifty years, when peace outshines

Remembrance of the battle lines,

Adventurous lads will sigh and cast

Proud looks upon the plundered past.

On summer morn or winter's night,

Their hearts will kindle for the fight,

Reading a snatch of soldier-song,

Savage and jaunty, fierce and strong;

Siegfried Sassoon

On Passing The New Menin Gate

Who will remember, passing through this Gate,

the unheroic dead who fed the guns?

Who shall absolve the foulness of their fate,-

Those doomed, conscripted, unvictorious ones?

Crudely renewed, the Salient holds its own.

Paid are its dim defenders by this pomp;

Paid, with a pile of peace-complacent stone,

The armies who endured that sullen swamp.

Siegfried Sassoon

Aftermath

Have you forgotten yet?…

For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days,

Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:

And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow

Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you're a man reprieved to go,

Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.

But the past is just the same—and War's a bloody game…

Have you forgotten yet?…

Siegfried Sassoon

Repression Of War Experience

Now light the candles; one; two; there’s a moth;

What silly beggars they are to blunder in

And scorch their wings with glory, liquid flame—

No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war,

When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;

And it’s been proved that soldiers don’t go mad

Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts

That drive them out to jabber among the trees.

Siegfried Sassoon

Dreamers

Soldiers are citizens of death's gray 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.

Siegfried Sassoon

'Blighters'

The House is crammed: tier beyond tier they grin

And cackle at the Show, while prancing ranks

Of harlots shrill the chorus, drunk with din;

‘We’re sure the Kaiser loves our dear old Tanks!’

I’d like to see a Tank come down the stalls,

Lurching to rag-time tunes, or ‘Home, sweet Home’,

And there’d be no more jokes in Music-halls

Siegfried Sassoon