FROM HOME. NOVEMBER 13
<poem> To the Men who fell at Beaumont-Hamel
THE pale sun woke in the eastern sky And a veil of mist was drawn Over the faces of death and fame When you went up in the dawn. With never a thought of fame or death, Only the work to do, When you went over the top, my friends, And I not there with you. The veil is rent with a rifle-flash And shows me plain to see Battle and bodies of men that lived And fought along with me. Oh God ! it would not have been so hard If I'd been in it too,
But you are lying stiff, my friends, And I not there with you. So here I sit in a pleasant room By a comfortable fire, With every thing that a man could want, But not the heart's desire. So I sit thinking and dreaming still, A dream that won't come true, Of you in the German trench, my friends, And I not there with you.