they shall not grow old

[burntcopper]

I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Suicide in the Trenches, Siegfried Sassoon.

Comments

[the-hatstand.livejournal.com]

A very powerful, very telling piece, and not one I knew. Excellent choice; thank you.

[gmh.livejournal.com]

It's my single favourite Sassoon poem (as I think I said this time last year); I remember setting it and 'The General' (also Sassoon) to music at school.

(Fortunately, I think the music is lost. Sondheim I am not.)

[dario006.livejournal.com]

Our brave and best stood tall and proud,
Marched straight and true the war field bound.
The training, the strength all come for this,
Their aim runs true, they do not miss.

Their youth they gave, then blood, then life,
They left their children, their home, their wife,
To keep us safe, they went to die,
We will remember they eternal lie.

Told to go, to fight, to bleed,
Defending us in time of need
They did not waver, they did not yield,
Now all just poppies upon a field.