The Great War

from Poems of the Great War, an electronic edition

Fallen

He was wounded and he fell in the midst of hoarse shouting.

The tide passed, and the waves came and whispered about his ankles.

Far off he heard a cock crow -- children laughing,

Rising at dawn to greet the storm of petals

Shaken from apple-boughs; he heard them cry,

And turned again to find the breast of her,

And sank confus├Ęd with a little sigh...

Thereafter water running, and a voice

That seemed to stir and flutter through the trenches

And set dead lips to talking...

Wreckage was mingled with the storm of petals...

He felt her near him, and the weight dropped off --

Suddenly...