The Happy Warrior


      His wild heart beats with painful sobs,

      His strin'd hands clench an ice-cold rifle,

      His aching jaws grip a hot parch'd tongue,

      His wide eyes search unconsciously.


      He cannot shriek.


      Bloody saliva

      Dribbles down his shapeless jacket.


      I saw him stab

      And stab again

      A well-killed Boche.


      This is the happy warrior,

      This is he...


Herbert Read