‘Fall in, that awkward squad, and strike no more <br />Attractive attitudes! Dress by the right! <br />The luminous rich colours that you wore <br />Have changed to hueless khaki in the night. <br />Magic? What’s magic got to do with you? <br />There’s no such thing! Blood’s red, and skies are blue.’ <br /> <br />They gasped and sweated, marching up and down. <br />I drilled them till they cursed my raucous shout. <br />Love chucked his lute away and dropped his crown. <br />Rhyme got sore heels and wanted to fall out. <br />‘Left, right! Press on your butts!’ They looked at me <br />Reproachful; how I longed to set them free! <br /> <br />I gave them lectures on Defence, Attack; <br />They fidgeted and shuffled, yawned and sighed, <br />And boggled at my questions. Joy was slack, <br />And Wisdom gnawed his fingers, gloomy-eyed. <br />Young Fancy—how I loved him all the while— <br />Stared at his note-book with a rueful smile. <br /> <br />Their training done, I shipped them all to France, <br />Where most of those I’d loved too well got killed. <br />Rapture and pale Enchantment and Romance, <br />And many a sickly, slender lord who’d filled <br />My soul long since with lutanies of sin, <br />Went home, because they couldn’t stand the din. <br /> <br />But the kind, common ones that I despised <br />(Hardly a man of them I’d count as friend), <br />What stubborn-hearted virtues they disguised! <br />They stood and played the hero to the end, <br />Won gold and silver medals bright with bars, <br />And marched resplendent home with crowns and stars.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/conscripts/
