He stood alone in some queer sunless place <br />Where Armageddon ends. Perhaps he longed <br />For days he might have lived; but his young face <br />Gazed forth untroubled: and suddenly there thronged <br />Round him the hulking Germans that I shot <br />When for his death my brooding rage was hot. <br /> <br />He stared at them, half-wondering; and then <br />They told him how I’d killed them for his sake— <br />Those patient, stupid, sullen ghosts of men; <br />And still there seemed no answer he could make. <br />At last he turned and smiled. One took his hand <br />Because his face could make them understand.<br /><br />Siegfried Sassoon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/enemies/
