Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake, br Out in the trench with three hours’ watch to take, br I blunder through the splashing mirk; and then br Hear the gruff muttering voices of the men br Crouching in cabins candle-chinked with light. br Hark! There’s the big bombardment on our right br Rumbling and bumping; and the dark’s a glare br Of flickering horror in the sectors where br We raid the Boche; men waiting, stiff and chilled, br Or crawling on their bellies through the wire. br ‘What? Stretcher-bearers wanted? Some one killed?’ br Five minutes ago I heard a sniper fire: br Why did he do it? ... Starlight overhead— br Blank stars. I’m wide-awake; and some chap’s dead.