Category Archives: sassoon

The Fathers Snug at the club two fathers sat, Gross, goggle-eyed, and full of chat. One of them said: ‘My eldest lad Writes cheery letters from Bagdad. But Arthur’s getting all the fun At Arras with his nine-inch gun.’ ‘Yes,’ … Continue reading →

Wirers ‘Pass it along, the wiring party’s going out’– And yawning sentries mumble, ‘Wirers going out.’ Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud, They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood. The Boche sends up a flare. Black … Continue reading →

Break of Day There seemed a smell of autumn in the air At the bleak end of night; he shivered there In a dank, musty dug-out where he lay, Legs wrapped in sand-bags,–lumps of chalk and clay Spattering his face. … Continue reading →

Lamentations I found him in the guard-room at the Base.From the blind darkness I had heard his cryingAnd blundered in. With puzzled, patient faceA sergeant watched him; it was no good trying To stop it; for he howled and beat … Continue reading →

Editorial Impressions He seemed so certain ‘all was going well’, As he discussed the glorious time he’d had While visiting the trenches. ‘One can tell You’ve gathered big impressions!’ grinned the lad Who’d been severely wounded in the back In … Continue reading →

Reconciliation When you are standing at your hero’s grave,Or near some homeless village where he died,Remember, through your heart’s rekindling pride,The German soldiers who were loyal and brave. Men fought like brutes; and hideous things were done; And you have … Continue reading →

The Hawthorn Tree Not much to me is yonder lane Where I go every day; But when there’s been a shower of rainAnd hedge-birds whistle gay,I know my lad that’s out in FranceWith fearsome things to see Would give his … Continue reading →

Joy-Bells Ring your sweet bells; but let them be farewells To the green-vista’d gladness of the past That changed us into soldiers; swing your bells To a joyful chime; but let it be the last. What means this metal in … Continue reading →

At Carnoy Down in the hollow there’s the whole Brigade Camped in four groups: through twilight falling slow I hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played, And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low. Crouched among thistle-tufts I’ve watched the glowOf … Continue reading →