Siegfried Sassoon

(1886 - 1967 / Kent / England)

Siegfried Sassoon Poems

81. October 1/3/2003
82. To His Dead Body 1/3/2003
83. Sick Leave 1/3/2003
84. 'In The Pink' 1/3/2003
85. At The Cenotaph 3/31/2010
86. France 1/3/2003
87. Remorse 1/3/2003
88. Morning-Glory 1/3/2003
89. When I’m Among A Blaze Of Lights 1/3/2003
90. Parted 1/3/2003
91. The One-Legged Man 1/3/2003
92. In Barracks 1/3/2003
93. The Poet As Hero 1/3/2003
94. Break Of Day 1/3/2003
95. Trench Duty 1/3/2003
96. Fight To A Finish 1/3/2003
97. Lamentations 1/3/2003
98. Dead Musicians 1/3/2003
99. The Dragon And The Undying 1/3/2003
100. David Cleek 1/3/2003
101. To My Brother 1/3/2003
102. To A Childless Woman 1/3/2003
103. The Imperfect Lover 1/3/2003
104. Stretcher Case 1/3/2003
105. Daybreak In A Garden 1/3/2003
106. Haunted 1/3/2003
107. Wirers 1/3/2003
108. Enemies 1/3/2003
109. Battalion-Relief 1/3/2003
110. The Kiss 1/3/2003
111. Devotion To Duty 1/3/2003
112. Reconciliation 1/3/2003
113. I Stood With The Dead 1/3/2003
114. The Last Meeting 1/3/2003
115. Memory 1/3/2003
116. Lovers 1/3/2003
117. Blind 1/3/2003
118. Together 1/3/2003
119. In Me, Past, Present, Future Meet 1/3/2003
120. To Any Dead Officer 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

I Stood With The Dead

I Stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still:
When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead.
And my slow heart said, 'You must kill, you must kill:
'Soldier, soldier, morning is red'.

On the shapes of the slain in their crumpled disgrace
I stared for a while through the thin cold rain...
'O lad that I loved, there is rain on your face,
'And your eyes are blurred and sick like the plain.'

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