Young Hughes was badly hit; I heard him carried away, Moaning at every lurch; no doubt he'll die to-day. But _we_ can say the front-line wire's been safely mended. ATTACK At dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun In the wild purple of the glowering sun, Smouldering through spouts of drifting smoke that shroud The menacing scarred slope; and, one by one, Tanks creep and topple forward to the wire. The barrage roars and lifts. Then, clumsily bowed With bombs and guns and shovels and battle-gear, Men jostle and climb to meet the bristling fire. Lines of grey, muttering faces, masked with fear, They leave their trenches, going over the top, While time ticks blank and busy on their wrists, And hope, with furtive eyes and grappling fists, Flounders in mud. O Jesu, make it stop! DREAMERS Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land, Drawing no dividend from time's to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they stand, Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows. Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives. Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin They think of firelit homes, clean beds, and wives. I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats, And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain, Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats, And mocked by hopeless longing to regain Bank-holidays, and picture shows, and spats, And going to the office in the train. HOW TO DIE Dark clouds are smouldering into red While down the craters morning burns. The dying soldier shifts his head To watch the glory that returns: He lifts his fingers toward the skies Where holy brightness breaks in flame; Radiance reflected in his eyes, And on his lips a whispered name. You'd think, to hear some people talk, That lads go West with sobs and curses, And sullen faces white as chalk, Hankering for wreaths and tombs and hearses. But they've been taught the way to do it Like Christian soldiers; not with haste And shuddering groans; but passing through it With due regard for decent taste. THE EFFECT "The effect of our bombardment was terrific. One man told me he had never seen so many dead before."--_War Correspondent_. _"He'd never seen so many dead before."_ They sprawled in yellow daylight while he swore And gasped and lugged his everlasting load Of bombs along what once had been a road. _"How peaceful are the dead."_ Who put that silly gag in some one's head? _"He'd never seen so many dead before."_ The lilting words danced up and down his brain, While corpses jumped and capered in the rain. No, no; he wouldn't count them any more ... The dead have done with pain: They've choked; they can't come back to life again.