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Siegfried Sassoon - Died Of Wounds
Work rating: Medium

His wet white face and miserable eyes   
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:   
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell   
His troubled voice: he did the business well.   
   
The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining           
And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood!   
‘It’s time to go. O Christ, and what’s the good?   
‘We’ll never take it, and it’s always raining.’   
   
I wondered where he’d been; then heard him shout,   
‘They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don’t go out…    
I fell asleep… Next morning he was dead;   
And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.
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