And when the war is done and youth stone dead, I’d toddle safely home and die–in bed. — Siegfried Sassoon
I didn’t want to die – not before I’d finished reading The Return of the Native anyhow. — Siegfried Sassoon
And there’d be no more jokes in Music-halls To mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume. — Siegfried Sassoon
October’s bellowing anger breakes and cleavesThe bronzed battalions of the stricken woodIn — Siegfried Sassoon
Soldiers are citizens of death’s grey land, drawing no dividend from time’s tomorrows. — Siegfried Sassoon
Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin they think of fire lit homes, clean beds, and wives. — Siegfried Sassoon