Rhymes of a Red-Cross Man/The Stretcher-Bearer

by Robert W. Service

The Stretcher-Bearer

My stretcher is one scarlet stain,
      And as I tries to scrape it clean,
I tell you wot — I'm sick with pain
      For all I've 'eard, for all I've seen;
Around me is the 'ellish night,
      And as the war's red rim I trace,
I wonder if in 'Eaven's height,
      Our God don't turn away 'Is Face.

      I don't care 'oose the Crime may be;
            I 'olds no brief for kin or clan;
      I 'ymns no 'ate: I only see
            As man destroys his brother man;
      I waves no flag: I only know,
            As 'ere beside the dead I wait,
      A million 'earts is weighed with woe,
            A million 'omes is desolate.

In drippin' darkness, far and near,
      All night I've sought them woeful ones.
Dawn shudders up and still I 'ear
      The crimson chorus of the guns.
Look! like a ball of blood the sun
      'Angs o'er the scene of wrath and wrong....
"Quick! Stretcher-bearers on the run!"
      O Prince of Peace! 'ow long, 'ow long?