-In me the tiger sniffs the rose.
-Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives.
-You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
*Suicide in the Trenches
-“Good morning, good morning,” the general said,
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of ’em dead,
And we’re cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
“He’s a cheery old card,” muttered Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.
But he did for them both by his plan of attack.
-Soldiers are citizens of death’s grey land,
Drawing no dividend from time’s tomorrows.
-Does it matter?- Losing your legs?
For people will always be kind,
And you needn’t show that you mind
When the others come in after hunting,
And gobble their muffins and eggs.
Does it matter?- Losing your sight?
There’s such splendid work for the blind,
And people will always be kind,
As you sit on the terrace remembering,
And turning your face to the light.
Do they matter?- Those dreams from the Pit?
You can drink, and forget, and be glad,
And no one will say that you’re mad,
For they’ll know that you fought for your country,
And no one will worry a bit.