Submit Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Died of Wounds

 His wet white face and miserable eyes 
Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs: 
But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell 
His troubled voice: he did the business well.
The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining And calling out for ‘Dickie’.
‘Curse the Wood! ‘It’s time to go.
O Christ, and what’s the good? ‘We’ll never take it, and it’s always raining.
’ I wondered where he’d been; then heard him shout, ‘They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don’t go out.
.
.
I fell asleep .
.
.
Next morning he was dead; And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Died of WoundsEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Top Siegfried Sassoon Poems

Analysis and Comments on Died of Wounds

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Died of Wounds here.