Siegfried Sassoon (18861967).

17. Suicide in the Trenches

I KNEW a simple soldier boy

 

Who grinned at life in empty joy,

 

Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,

 

And whistled early with the lark.

 

  

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,

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With crumps and lice and lack of rum,

 

He put a bullet through his brain.

 

No one spoke of him again.

    .    .    .    .

 

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye

 

Who cheer when soldier lads march by,

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Sneak home and pray youll never know

 

The hell where youth and laughter go.