“I died in hell. They called it Passchendaele.”

“I keep such music in my brain No din this side of death can quell; Glory exulting over pain, And beauty, garlanded in hell.”

“I didn't want to die - not before I'd finished reading The Return of the Native anyhow.”

“I am banished from the patient men who fight.They smote my heart to pity, built my pride.Shoulder to aching shoulder, side by side,They trudged away from life's broad wealds of light.Their wrongs were mine; and ever in my sightThey went arrayed in honour. But they died,--Not one by one: and mutinous I criedTo those who sent them out into the night.The darkness tells how vainly I have strivenTo free them from the pit where they must dwellIn outcast gloom convulsed and jagged and rivenBy grappling guns. Love drove me to rebel.Love drives me back to grope with them through hell;And in their tortured eyes I stand forgiven.”

“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." "The War Poems”

“His wet white face and miserable eyesBrought nurses to him more than groans and sighs:But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fellHis troubled voice: he did the business well.(First verse of Died of Wounds)”

“Dark clouds are smouldering into red While down the craters morning burns.The dying soldier shifts his head To watch the glory that returns:He lifts his fingers toward the skies Where holy brightness breaks in flame;Radiance reflected in his eyes, And on his lips a whispered name.”