Darkness: the rain sluiced down; the mire was deep; <br />It was past twelve on a mid-winter night, <br />When peaceful folk in beds lay snug asleep; <br />There, with much work to do before the light, <br />We lugged our clay-sucked boots as best we might <br />Along the trench; sometimes a bullet sang, <br />And droning shells burst with a hollow bang; <br />We were soaked, chilled and wretched, every one; <br />Darkness; the distant wink of a huge gun. <br /> <br />I turned in the black ditch, loathing the storm; <br />A rocket fizzed and burned with blanching flare, <br />And lit the face of what had been a form <br />Floundering in mirk. He stood before me there; <br />I say that He was Christ; stiff in the glare, <br />And leaning forward from His burdening task, <br />Both arms supporting it; His eyes on mine <br />Stared from the woeful head that seemed a mask <br />Of mortal pain in Hell's unholy shine. <br /> <br />No thorny crown, only a woollen cap <br />He wore--an English soldier, white and strong, <br />Who loved his time like any simple chap, <br />Good days of work and sport and homely song; <br />Now he has learned that nights are very long, <br />And dawn a watching of the windowed sky. <br />But to the end, unjudging, he'll endure <br />Horror and pain, not uncontent to die <br /> <br />That Lancaster on Lune may stand secure. <br />He faced me, reeling in his weariness, <br />Shouldering his load of planks, so hard to bear. <br />I say that He was Christ, who wrought to bless <br />All groping things with freedom bright as air, <br />And with His mercy washed and made them fair. <br />Then the flame sank, and all grew black as pitch, <br />While we began to struggle along the ditch; <br />And someone flung his burden in the muck, <br />Mumbling: 'O Christ Almighty, now I'm stuck!'<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-redeemer/
