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Siegfried Sassoon - The Investiture
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GOD with a Roll of Honour in His hand   
Sits welcoming the heroes who have died,   
While sorrowless angels ranked on either side   
Stand easy in Elysium’s meadow-land.   
Then you come shyly through the garden gate,
Wearing a blood-soaked bandage on your head;   
And God says something kind because you’re dead,   
And homesick, discontented with your fate.   
   
If I were there we’d snowball Death with skulls;   
Or ride away to hunt in Devil’s Wood
With ghosts of puppies that we walked of old.   
But you’re alone; and solitude annuls   
Our earthly jokes; and strangely wise and good   
You roam forlorn along the streets of gold.
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