Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/214

 188 RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL

There are pain-crazed animals a-shrieking there And a warm blood stench that is a-reeking there ;

He fights like a rat in a corner —

Billy, the Soldier Boy !

There he lies now, like a ghoulish score of him,

Left on the field for dead : The ground all around is smeared with the gore of him —

Even the leaves are red. The Thing that was Billy lies a-dying there, Writhing and a-twisting and a-crying there;

A sickening sun grins down on him —

Billy, the Soldier Boy !

Still not quite clear in the poor, wrung heart of him

What the fuss was about. See where he lies — or a ghastly part of him —

While life is oozing out : There are loathsome things he sees a-crawling there ; There are hoarse-voiced crows he hears a-calling there.

Eager for the foul feast spread for them —

BUly, the Soldier Boy !

How much longer, Lord, shall we bear it all f

How many more red years f Story it and glory it and share it all,

In seas of blood and tears f

�� �