Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight,
(Under Lord Derby’s Scheme). I died in hell—
(They called it Passchendaele). My wound was slight,
And I was hobbling back; and then a shell
Burst slick upon the duck-boards: so I fell
Into the bottomless mud, and lost the light.
At sermon-time, while Squire is in his pew,
He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare:
For, though low down upon the list, I’m there;
‘In proud and glorious memory’ ... that’s my due.
Two bleeding years I fought in France, for Squire:
I suffered anguish that he’s never guessed.
Once I came home on leave: and then went west...
What greater glory could a man desire?
Siegfried Sassoon's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Memorial Tablet by Siegfried Sassoon )
Did you read them?
- Memory, Liffy Liu
- Merciful and kind, hasmukh amathalal
- Achilles Awaking, Louis Borgo
- Escape to free, Liffy Liu
- Am I the sun?, gajanan mishra
- Money Or Value, Louis Borgo
- Peace be unto you!, gajanan mishra
- No road sense, hasmukh amathalal
- goals II, douglas scotney
- Two Beautiful Glittering Stars, Aftab Alam
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