Siegfried Sassoon

(1886 - 1967 / Kent / England)

Comments about Siegfried Sassoon

  • GoGoGo (11/23/2018 8:40:00 AM)

    He's cool! I love sassoon. Awesome!

    3 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • John Wright (11/6/2018 2:56:00 PM)

    Although Sassoon's poems were badly received by the hypocritical, pro-war establishment of the time, they resonated with the millions who served in the trenches and felt exactly what he wrote about.

  • John Cena (11/4/2018 1:19:00 AM)

    And his name is John Cena! ! !

  • William Shakespeare (11/4/2018 1:15:00 AM)

    To be or not to be that is the question

  • Megan Serena (9/23/2018 5:43:00 AM)

    Is there any poems suitable for a year 9 homework task Really appreciate it

  • Tricia (8/28/2018 4:54:00 PM)

    can anyone help as I am sure Siegfried Sassoon wrote a poem about a victoiran train starting, The passengers stand in pools of wintry light, offering themselves to morn's long slanting shadows. The train steams in volleying
    resplendent clouds of sun blown vapour.

  • no why (7/5/2018 4:44:00 AM)

    comment ;) abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

  • Mullins (7/1/2018 5:03:00 AM)

    Are these all by Siegfried Sassoon?

  • EVENS (3/22/2018 7:49:00 PM)

    The correct way for educated people to request that the audio be made inoperative is to write: Please can someone on this site please de-activate the audio. Thank you for your attention to this matter. I can see absolutely NO reason to be vulgar. And, incidentally, you can always turn OFF the sound at YOUR end! I personally have yet to hear the audio!

  • Soumitra sing (3/22/2018 9:22:00 AM)

    Full poem of Siegfried Sasson

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 Hawthorn Tree

Not much to me is yonder lane
Where I go every day;
But when there’s been a shower of rain
And hedge-birds whistle gay,
I know my lad that’s out in France
With fearsome things to see
Would give his eyes for just one glance
At our white hawthorn tree.

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