To The Warmongers

To The Warmongers

By Siegfried Sassoon
May 27, 2017

I’m back again from hell
With loathsome thoughts to sell;
Secrets of death to tell;
And horrors from the abyss.

Young faces bleared with blood,
Sucked down into the mud,
You shall hear things like this,
Till the tormented slain.

Crawl round and once again,
With limbs that twist awry,
Moan out their brutish pain,
As for the fighters pass them by.

For you our battles shine
With triumph half-divine;
And the glory of the dead,
Kindles in each proud eye.

But a curse is on my head,
That shall not be unsaid,
And the wounds in my heart are red,
For I have watched them die.