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 He stood alone in some queer sunless place 
Where Armageddon ends.
Perhaps he longed For days he might have lived; but his young face Gazed forth untroubled: and suddenly there thronged Round him the hulking Germans that I shot When for his death my brooding rage was hot.
He stared at them, half-wondering; and then They told him how I’d killed them for his sake— Those patient, stupid, sullen ghosts of men; And still there seemed no answer he could make.
At last he turned and smiled.
One took his hand Because his face could make them understand.

by Siegfried Sassoon
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