Siegfried Sassoon

(1886 - 1967 / Kent / England)

Siegfried Sassoon Poems

1. Sporting Acquaintances 3/31/2010
2. The Road 3/31/2010
3. In An Underground Dressing Station 3/31/2010
4. Christ And The Soldier 11/25/2014
5. Before Day 3/31/2010
6. The Portrait 3/31/2010
7. The Road To Ruin 3/31/2010
8. The Triumph 3/31/2010
9. Because We Are Going 3/31/2010
10. Ex-Service 3/31/2010
11. Sassoon's Public Statement Of Defiance 3/31/2010
12. The Redeemer 3/31/2010
13. Today 1/3/2003
14. Prelude: The Troops 3/31/2010
15. To Leonide Massine In ‘cleopatra’ 1/3/2003
16. Microcosmos 3/31/2010
17. Grandeur Of Ghosts 3/31/2010
18. The Rear-Guard 3/31/2010
19. What The Captain Said At The Point-To-Point 1/3/2003
20. Solar Eclipse 3/31/2010
21. South Wind 1/3/2003
22. Invocation 1/3/2003
23. The Working Party 1/3/2003
24. The Goldsmith 1/3/2003
25. Goblin Revel 1/3/2003
26. Thrushes 1/3/2003
27. The Fathers 1/3/2003
28. Joy-Bells 1/3/2003
29. Twelve Months After 1/3/2003
30. Villon 1/3/2003
31. Morning-Land 1/3/2003
32. Two Hundred Years After 1/3/2003
33. Wraiths 1/3/2003
34. On Passing The New Menin Gate 3/31/2010
35. Storm And Sunlight 1/3/2003
36. The Investiture 1/3/2003
37. Editorial Impressions 1/3/2003
38. The Road 1/3/2003
39. Wonderment 1/3/2003
40. Stand-To: Good Friday Morning 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Siegfried Sassoon

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,
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,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Read the full of Suicide In The Trenches

The General

‘Good-morning; good-morning!’ the General said
When we met him last week on our way to the line.
Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of ’em dead,
And we’re cursing his staff for incompetent swine.
‘He’s a cheery old card,’ grunted Harry to Jack
As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

. . . .
But he did for them both by his plan of attack.

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