You, whose forebodings have been all fulfilled, <br />You who have heard the bell, seen the boy stand <br />Holding the flimsy message in his hand <br />While through your heart the fiery question thrilled <br />'Wounded or killed, which, which?'-and it was 'Killed-' <br />And in a kind of trance have read it, numb <br />But conscious that the dreaded hour was come, <br />No dream this dream wherewith your blood was chilled- <br />Oh brothers in calamity, unknown <br />Companions in the order of black loss, <br />Lift up your hearts, for your are not alone, <br />And let our sombre hosts together bring <br />Their sorrows to the shadow of the Cross <br />And learn the fellowship of suffering.<br /><br />Henry Christopher Bradby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/april-1918/
