I br br A tent that is pitched at the base; br A wagon that comes from the night; br A stretcher – and on it a Case; br A surgeon, who’s holding a light, br The Infantry’s bearing the brunt – br O hark to the wind-carried cheer! br A mutter of guns at the front; br A whimper of sobs at the rear. br And it’s War! Orderly, hold the light. br You can lay him down on the table; so. br Easily – gently! Thanks – you may go,’ br And it’s War! But the part that is not for show. br br br II. br br A tent, with a table athwart, br A table that’s laid out for one; br A waterproof cover – and nought br But the limp, mangled work of a gun. br A bottle that’s stuck by the pole, br A guttering dip in the neck; br The flickering light of a soul br On the wondering eyes of The Wreck, br And it’s War! ‘Orderly, hold his hand. br I’m not going to hurt you, so don’t be afraid. br A ricochet! God! What a mess it has made!’ br And it’s War! And a very unhealthy trade. br br br III br br The clink of a stopper and glass: br A sigh as the chloroform drips: br A trickle of – what? on the grass, br And bluer and bluer the lips. br The lashes have hidden the stare… br A rent, and the clothes fall away… br A touch, and the wound is laid bare… br A cut, and the face has turned grey… br And it’s War! ‘Orderly, take It out. br It’s hard for his child, and it’s rough on his wife.