More songs by the fighting men. Soldiers poets: second series/Dudley H. Harris
DUDLEY H. HARRIS
Cadet, Tank Corps
Left Alone
LEFT alone among the dying!
All around are moaning, sighing,
Or are cursing, sobbing, crying
In Death's crushing, hushing hand.
We are torn upon the wire,
We are scorched and burnt with fire,
Or lie choking in the mire
Of the star-lit "No Man's Land."
Hear our prayers, O! gentle Jesus,
Send Thine angels down to ease us
From the pains of Hell that seize us,
From our burning, yearning thirst.
We are broken, we are battered,
Bodies twisted, crushed and shattered
By the shells and bullets scattered
On this strip of land accurst.
Round about are shadows creeping,
Formless Things which wake the sleeping,
Glaring eyes from shell-holes peeping,
Mocking always at our pain.
Cold and wet our limbs are numbing,
Fevered brows are drumming, drumming—
Are the stretchers never coming?
Are we numbered with the slain?
God in Heaven, canst Thou hear us?
Mary Mother! Dost Thou fear us?
Stretcher-bearers, are you near us?
Give us water or we die!
But a grisly shadow's creeping
With his cruel scythe a-reaping
Weary souls which fall to sleeping
In a choking, croaking sigh.