Bored? Poem by A. P. Herbert

Bored with the war, Sir? Weary and worn and old?
May be. But be thankful you spend your nights in a bed:
You do not wake in a slit-trench, sodden and cold,
Or keep a watch in the wind, with the Huns ahead.

Bored with the war. Sir? Can such a sigh be heard
While Germans still are singing the same old strain,
And our young boys arc dying without a word?
Bored with the war, Sir? No—you must think again.
November 12, 1944