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The Redeemer

Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep;It was past twelve on a mid-winter night,When peaceful folk in beds lay snug asleep:There, with much work to do before the light,We lugged our clay-sucked boots as best we mightAlong the trench; sometimes a bullet sang,And droning shells burst with a hollow bang;We were soaked, chilled and wretched, every one.Darkness: the distant wink of a huge gun.I turned in the black ditch, loathing the storm;A rocket fizzed and burned with blanching flare,And lit the face of what had been a formFloundering in mirk. He stood before me there;I say that he was... Poems - Post by : sweetsuccess - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1185

A Working Party

Three hours ago he blundered up the trench,Sliding and poising, groping with his boots;Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the wallsWith hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk.He couldn't see the man who walked in front;Only he heard the drum and rattle of feetStepping along the trench-boards,--often splashingWretchedly where the sludge was ankle-deep.Voices would grunt, "Keep to your right,--make way!"When squeezing past the men from the front-line:White faces peered, puffing a point of red;Candles and braziers glinted through the chinksAnd curtain-flaps of dug-outs; then the gloomSwallowed his sense of sight; he stooped and sworeBecause a sagging wire had caught his... Poems - Post by : Holly - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 3481

Stand-to: Good Friday Morning

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 wayUp 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!(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Stand-To: Good Friday Morning... Poems - Post by : peter_act - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 3414

"in The Pink"

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 drinkOf 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.He couldn't sleep that night. Stiff in the darkHe groaned and thought of Sundays at the farm,When he'd go out as cheerful as a larkIn his best suit to wander arm-in-armWith brown-eyed Gwen, and whisper in her earThe simple, silly things she liked to hear.And then he thought: to-morrow night we trudgeUp... Poems - Post by : win_thomas - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 979

Before The Battle

Music of whispering treesHushed by the broad-winged breezeWhere shaken water gleams;And evening radiance fallingWith reedy bird-notes calling.O bear me safe through dark, you low-voiced streams.I have no need to prayThat fear may pass away;I scorn the growl and rumble of the fightThat summons me from coolSilence of marsh and pool,And yellow lilies islanded in light.O river of stars and shadows, lead me through the night. _June 25th, 1916._(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Before The Battle... Poems - Post by : avatar - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1442

The Road

The road is thronged with women; soldiers passAnd halt, but never see them; yet they're here--A patient crowd along the sodden grass,Silent, worn out with waiting, sick with fear.The road goes crawling up a long hillside,All ruts and stones and sludge, and the emptied dregsOf battle thrown in heaps. Here where they diedAre stretched big-bellied horses with stiff legs;And dead men, bloody-fingered from the fight,Stare up at caverned darkness winking white.You in the bomb-scorched kilt, poor sprawling Jock,You tottered here and fell, and stumbled on,Half dazed for want of sleep. No dream could mockYour reeling brain with comforts lost and gone.You... Poems - Post by : Alessia - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1123

Two Hundred Years After

Trudging by Corbie Ridge one winter's night,(Unless old, hearsay memories tricked his sight),Along the pallid edge of the quiet skyHe watched a nosing lorry grinding on,And straggling files of men; when these were gone,A double limber and six mules went by,Hauling the rations up through ruts and mudTo trench-lines digged two hundred years ago.Then darkness hid them with a rainy scud,And soon he saw the village lights below.But when he'd told his tale, an old man saidThat _he'd_ seen soldiers pass along that hill;"Poor, silent things, they were the English deadWho came to fight in France and got their fill."(The end)Siegfried... Poems - Post by : koolmoss - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1310

At Carnoy

Down in the hollow there's the whole BrigadeCamped in four groups: through twilight falling slowI hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played,And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low.Crouched among thistle-tufts I've watched the glowOf a blurred orange sunset flare and fade;And I'm content. To-morrow we must goTo take some cursed Wood.... O world God made!_July 3rd, 1916._(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: At Carnoy... Poems - Post by : Joe_D. - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1756

Battalion-relief

"_Fall in! Now, get a move on!_" (Curse the rain.)We splash away along the straggling village,Out to the flat rich country green with June....And sunset flares across wet crops and tillage,Blazing with splendour-patches. Harvest soonUp in the Line. "_Perhaps the War'll be doneBy Christmas-time. Keep smiling then, old son!_"Here's the Canal: it's dusk; we cross the bridge."_Lead on there by platoons._" The Line's a-glareWith shell-fire through the poplars; distant rattleOf rifles and machine-guns. "_Fritz is there!Christ, ain't it lively, Sergeant? Is't a battle?_"More rain: the lightning blinks, and thunder rumbles."There's overhead artillery," some chap grumbles."_What's all this mob, by the cross-road?_"... Poems - Post by : johneze - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1045

The Dug-out

Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled,And one arm bent across your sullen coldExhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,Deep-shadow'd from the candle's guttering gold;And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder;Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn your head...._You are too young to fall asleep for ever;And when you sleep you remind me of the dead._(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Dug-Out... Poems - Post by : kaybee - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1302

I Stood With The Dead

I stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still: When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead.And my slow heart said, "You must kill; you must kill: Soldier, soldier, morning is red."On the shapes of the slain in their crumpled disgrace I stared for a while through the thin cold rain...."O lad that I loved, there is rain on your face, And your eyes are blurred and sick like the plain."I stood with the Dead.... They were dead; they were dead; My heart and my head beat a march of dismay;And gusts of the wind came dulled by the guns....... Poems - Post by : JasonD - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 3799

In An Underground Dressing-station

Quietly they set their burden down: he triedTo grin; moaned; moved his head from side to side. * * * * *He gripped the stretcher; stiffened; glared; and screamed,"O put my leg down, doctor, do!" (He'd gotA bullet in his ankle; and he'd been shotHorribly through the guts.) The surgeon seemedSo kind and gentle, saying, above that crying,"You _must_ keep still, my lad." But he was dying.(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: In An Underground Dressing-Station... Poems - Post by : profitb2 - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 809

Died Of Wounds

His wet, white face and miserable eyesBrought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fellHis 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.(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Died of Wounds... Poems - Post by : MediaCow - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 2508

Atrocities

You told me, in your drunken-boasting mood,How once you butchered prisoners. That was good!I'm sure you felt no pity while they stoodPatient and cowed and scared, as prisoners should.How did you do them in? Come, don't be shy:You know I love to hear how Germans die,Downstairs in dug-outs. "Camerad!" they cry;Then squeal like stoats when bombs begin to fly. * * * * *And you? I know your record. You went sickWhen orders looked unwholesome: then, with trickAnd lie, you wangled home. And here you are,Still talking big and boozing in a bar.(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Atrocities... Poems - Post by : kevingaunt - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 2537

"blighters"

The house is crammed: tier beyond tier they grinAnd cackle at the Show, while prancing ranksOf harlots shrill the chorus, drunk with din;"We're sure the Kaiser loves the 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-hallsTo mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume.(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: "Blighters"... Poems - Post by : cdmpro - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1551

Arms And The Man

Young Croesus went to pay his callOn Colonel Sawbones, Caxton Hall:And, though his wound was healed and mended,He hoped he'd get his leave extended.The waiting-room was dark and bare.He eyed a neat-framed notice thereAbove the fireplace hung to showDisabled heroes where to goFor arms and legs; with scale of price,And words of dignified adviceHow officers could get them free.Elbow or shoulder, hip or knee,--Two arms, two legs, though all were lost,They'd be restored him free of cost.Then a Girl-Guide looked in to say,"Will Captain Croesus come this way?"(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Arms and the Man... Poems - Post by : Toddq29 - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 2244

When I'm Among A Blaze Of Lights

When I'm among a blaze of lights,With tawdry music and cigarsAnd women dawdling through delights,And officers at cocktail bars,--Sometimes I think of garden nightsAnd elm trees nodding at the stars.I dream of a small firelit roomWith yellow candles burning straight,And glowing pictures in the gloom,And kindly books that hold me late.Of things like these I love to thinkWhen I can never be alone:Then some one says, "Another drink?"--And turns my living heart to stone.(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: When I'm among a blaze of lights... Poems - Post by : gcmega - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1963

The Tombstone-maker

He primmed his loose red mouth, and leaned his headAgainst a sorrowing angel's breast, and said:"You'd think so much bereavement would have madeUnusual big demands upon my trade.The War comes cruel hard on some poor folk--Unless the fighting stops I'll soon be broke."He eyed the Cemetery across the road--"There's scores of bodies out abroad, this while,That should be here by rights; they little know'dHow they'd get buried in such wretched style."I told him, with a sympathetic grin,That Germans boil dead soldiers down for fat;And he was horrified. "What shameful sin!O sir, that Christian men should come to that!"(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem:... Poems - Post by : Greycap - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1279

The One-legged Man

Propped on a stick he viewed the August weald;Squat orchard trees and oasts with painted cowls;A homely, tangled hedge, a corn-stooked field,With sound of barking dogs and farmyard fowls.And he'd come home again to find it moreDesirable than ever it was before.How right it seemed that he should reach the spanOf comfortable years allowed to man!Splendid to eat and sleep and choose a wife,Safe with his wound, a citizen of life.He hobbled blithely through the garden gate,And thought; "Thank God they had to amputate!"(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: One-Legged Man... Poems - Post by : dmkapke - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 1542

Return Of The Heroes

_A lady watches from the crowd, Enthusiastic, flushed, and proud._"Oh! there's Sir Henry Dudster! Such a splendid leader!How pleased he looks! What rows of ribbons on his tunic!Such dignity.... Saluting.... (_Wave your flag ... now, Freda!_)...Yes, dear, I saw a Prussian General once,--at Munich."Here's the next carriage!... Jack was once in Leggit's Corps;That's him!... I think the stout one is Sir Godfrey Stoomer.They _must_ feel sad to know they can't win any moreGreat victories!... Aren't they glorious men?... so full of humour!"(The end)Siegfried Sassoon's poem: Return Of The Heroes... Poems - Post by : theerran - Date : December 2010 - Author : Siegfried Sassoon - Read : 3026

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