i dont want a war poem i always forget exposure
Our brains ache, in merciless iced east winds that knive us..\ Wearied we keep awake because the night is silent Dawn massing in the east her melancholy army \ Attacks once more in ranks on shivering ranks of grey So we drowse, sun-dozed, ered with blossoms trickling where the blackbird fusses.\ -Is it that we are dying? Therefore, not loath , we lie out here ; therefore were born\For love of God seems dying Pause over half-known faces. All their eyes are ice, \ But nothing happens. (Burial Party)