<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">The Wayside Burial</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">THEY'RE bringing in their recent dead—their</p><p class="line">recent dead!</p><p class="line">I see the shoulder badge: a "Southern crush."</p><p class="line">How small he looks—(O damn that singing thrush!)</p><p class="line">Not give foot five from boots to battered head!</p><p class="line">Give him a kindly burial, my friends,—</p><p class="line">S much is due, when some such loyal life ends!</p><p class="line">"For Country!" Ay, and so our brave do die:</p><p class="line">Comrade unknown, good rest to you!—Good-bye!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">They're bringing their recent dead!—No pomp,</p><p class="line">no show:</p><p class="line">A dingy khaki crowd—his friends, his own.</p><p class="line">I, too, would like—(God, how that wind does</p><p class="line">moan!)—</p><p class="line">To be laid down by friends: it's sweetest so!</p><p class="line">A young life, as I take it; just a lad—</p><p class="line">(Hc.v cold it blows; and that grey sky, how sad!)—</p><p class="line">And yet: "For Country"—so a man should die:</p><p class="line">Comrade unknown, good rest to you!—Good-bye!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">They're burying their dead!—I wonder now:</p><p class="line">A wife?—or mother? Mother it must be—</p><p class="line">In some trim home that fronts the English sea.</p><p class="line">(A sea-coast country: that the badges show.)</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">And she?—I sense her grief, I feel her tears!</p><p class="line">"This, then, the garnered harvest of my years!"</p><p class="line">And he? "For Country, dear, a man must die!"</p><p class="line">Comrade unknown, good rest to you!—Good-bye!</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">It's reeded: he is buried! Comrade, sleep!</p><p class="line">A wooden cross at your brave head will stand.</p><p class="line">A cross of wood? A Calvary!—The Land</p><p class="line">For whose sake you laid down sweet life, will keep</p><p class="line">Watch, lad, and ward that none may bring to shame.</p><p class="line">That Name for which you died! "What's in a name"?—</p><p class="line">England shall answer! Tou will hear Her cry:</p><p class="line">" Well done, my own! my son—good rest: Good-</p><p class="line">bye!"</p></div><p>B.E.F., France, 4.3.17.</p></body></html> · Great War