The Great War

from War Daubs: Poems, an electronic edition

The Grave-Digger

A DIGGER he digs in the dark

In the naked remains of a wood,

For his friend that lies stiff and stark,

On his head hard blood for a hood :

The digging is painful and slow,

Yet the digger he sweats like a slave--

But he didn't know what I now know ;

The digger he dug his own grave !