‘Pass it along, the wiring party’s going out’— <br />And yawning sentries mumble, ‘Wirers going out.’ <br />Unravelling; twisting; hammering stakes with muffled thud, <br />They toil with stealthy haste and anger in their blood. <br /> <br />The Boche sends up a flare. Black forms stand rigid there, <br />Stock-still like posts; then darkness, and the clumsy ghosts <br />Stride hither and thither, whispering, tripped by clutching snare <br />Of snags and tangles. <br />Ghastly dawn with vaporous coasts <br />Gleams desolate along the sky, night’s misery ended. <br /> <br />Young Hughes was badly hit; I heard him carried away, <br />Moaning at every lurch; no doubt he’ll die to-day. <br />But we can say the front-line wire’s been safely mended.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wirers/
