You smug-faced crowds with kindling eyeWho cheer when soldier lads march by,Sneak home and pray you'll never knowThe hell where youth and laughter go.
"Suicide in the Trenches"
The visionless officialized fatuityThat once kept Europe safe for Perpetuity.Siegfried Sassoon
Mute in the clamour of shells he watched them burstSpouting dark earth and wire with gusts from hell,While posturing giants dissolved in drifts of smoke.He crouched and flinched, dizzy with galloping fear,Sick for escape,— loathing the strangled horrorAnd butchered, frantic gestures of the dead.Siegfried Sassoon
If I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath,I'd live with scarlet Majors at the Base,And speed glum heroes up the line of death.Siegfried Sassoon
October's bellowing anger breakes and cleavesThe bronzed battalions of the stricken woodIn whose lament I hear a voice that grievesFor battle's fruitless harvest, and the feudOf outrage men. Their lives are like the leavesScattered in flocks of ruin, tossed and blownAlong the westering furnace flaring red.O martyred youth and manhood overthrown,The burden of your wrongs is on my head.Siegfried Sassoon
Deep in my morning time he made his markAnd still he comes uncalled to be my guideIn devastated regionsWhen the brain has lost its bearings in the darkAnd broken in it’s body’s prideIn the long campaign to which it had sworn allegiance.Siegfried Sassoon
O German mother dreaming by the fire, While you are knitting socks to send your son His face is trodden deeper in the mud.Siegfried Sassoon