The Great War

from War Daubs: Poems, an electronic edition

Wounded

I AM not brave

As others seem to be ;

But, like a knave,

I cringe in misery :

I cannot face

With smiles my wound's keen bite ;

And, oh, a furnace

Is my bed at night !

O God, my God,

Give me the strength to see

Thy hand on the rod

That hotly scourges me !