Siegfried Sassoon

(1886 - 1967 / Kent / England)

Siegfried Sassoon Poems

121. To A Childless Woman 1/3/2003
122. Conscripts 1/3/2003
123. Lovers 1/3/2003
124. Together 1/3/2003
125. Memory 1/3/2003
126. Wirers 1/3/2003
127. The Rear-Guard 1/3/2003
128. Before The Battle 1/3/2003
129. To Any Dead Officer 1/3/2003
130. Repression Of War Experience 1/3/2003
131. An Old French Poet 1/3/2003
132. Ancestors 1/3/2003
133. Glory Of Women 1/3/2003
134. At Daybreak 1/3/2003
135. Survivors 1/3/2003
136. Secret Music 1/3/2003
137. Bombardment 1/3/2003
138. The Death-Bed 1/3/2003
139. Arms And The Man 1/3/2003
140. How To Die 1/3/2003
141. Counter-Attack 1/3/2003
142. A Poplar And The Moon 1/3/2003
143. The Dug-Out 1/3/2003
144. Everyone Sang 1/3/2003
145. A Working Party 1/1/2004
146. Autumn 1/3/2003
147. Banishment 1/3/2003
148. A Subaltern 1/3/2003
149. 'They' 1/3/2003
150. A Wanderer 1/3/2003
151. Died Of Wounds 1/3/2003
152. Base Details 1/3/2003
153. A Whispered Tale 1/3/2003
154. A Child's Prayer 1/3/2003
155. The General 1/3/2003
156. “the Rank Stench Of Those Bodies Haunts Me Still” 3/31/2010
157. Hero 1/3/2003
158. Alone 1/3/2003
159. A Mystic As Soldier 1/3/2003
160. Ancient History 1/3/2003

Comments about Siegfried Sassoon

  • Ferg Fred Ferg Fred (12/2/2016 6:08:00 AM)

    this poem makes me feel young again
    inspirational

    yours sinsirly

    ferg fred

    37 person liked.
    21 person did not like.
  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (3/2/2016 2:16:00 PM)

    One of the great poets from World War I, Sassoon was also known for his fictionalised autobiographies, praised for their evocation of English country life.

  • Lord Andrew Barham (3/18/2015 8:22:00 AM)

    Get rid of the goddamned video voice over – it's about as poetic as a sore arsehole!

  • Tim Williams (4/24/2007 9:25:00 PM)

    This is interesting

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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