Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/128

 102 WILFRID WILSON GIBSON

And knots of tape and reels of thread and knots Of tape and reels of thread and knots of tape, Day in, day out, and answering " Have you got"s And "Do you keep"s, till there seemed no escape From everlasting serving in a shop. Inquiring what each customer required, Politely talking weather, fit to drop. With swollen ankles, tired. ..

But he was tired Now. Every bone was aching, and had ached For fourteen days and nights in that wet

trench — Just duller when he slept than when he waked — Crouching for shelter from the steady drench Of shell and shrapnel. ..

That old trench, it seemed Almost like home to him. He'd slept and fed And sung and smoked in it, while shrapnel screamed And shells went whining harmless overhead — Harmless, at least, as far as he. ..

But Dick — Dick hadn't found them harmless yesterday. At breakfast, when he'd said he couldn't stick Eating dry bread, and crawled out the back way, And brought them butter in a lordly dish — Butter enough for all, and held it high, Yellow and fresh and clean as you could wish — When plump upon the plate from out the sky

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