SOLDIERS are citizens of death's grey land, Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they stand, Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows. Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives. Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives. I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats, And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain, Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats, And mocked by hopeless longing to regain Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats, And going to the office in the train. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ. by JOHN KEATS ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT PREPARATORY MEDITATIONS, 1ST SERIES: 1 by EDWARD TAYLOR MEDITATION AT KEW by ANNA WICKHAM YOUTH'S SONGS by MAXWELL ANDERSON OF BENEVOLENCE: AN EPISTLE TO EUMENES by JOHN ARMSTRONG FOUR SONNETS: 1 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN |