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