The poem
I'd been on duty from two till four. I went and stared at the dug-out door. Down in the frowst I heard them snore. 'Stand to!' Somebody grunted and swore. Dawn was misty; the skies were still; Larks were singing, discordant, shrill; They seemed happy; but I felt ill. Deep in water I splashed my way Up the trench to our bogged front line. Rain had fallen the whole damned night. O Jesus, send me a wound to-day, And I'll believe in Your bread and wine, And get my bloody old sins washed white!