Page:Soldier poets, songs of the fighting men, 1916.djvu/75

Rh The raging curses, and the strange mad lust

Of slaughter, all we know; and how the breath

Sobs out in troublous gasps; and with each thrust

The bayonet claims a bloody gift for death.

And in the end what guerdon shall we reap?

To tend the wounded, for the dead to weep?

The Aftermath

71