Siegfried Sassoon, "Died of Wounds"

Died of Wounds

His wet white face and miserable eyes

Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:

But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell

His troubled voice: he did the business well.

The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining

And calling out for 'Dickie'. 'Curse the Wood!

'It's time to go. O Christ, and what's the good?

'We'll never take it, and it's always raining.'

I wondered where he'd been; then heard him shout,
'They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don't go out…
I fell asleep ...