On sword and gun the shadows reel and riot, A lone breeze whispers at the dug-out door, The trench is silent and the night is quiet And boys in khaki slumber on the floor. A sentinel on guard, my watch I keep And guard the dug-out where my comrades sleep. The moon looks down upon a ghost-like figure, Delving a furrow in the cold, damp sod. The grave is ready and the lonely digger Leaves the departed to their rest and God. I shape a little cross and plant it deep To mark the dug-out where my comrades sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PENITENTIAL PSALM: 143. DOMINE EXAUDI by THOMAS WYATT DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 4. THE MOON'S ORCHESTRA by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER OH! SUSANNA! by STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL' by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT THE BRAVEST BATTLE by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER |