‘At every cost,’ they said, ‘it must be done.’ <br />They told us in the early afternoon. <br />We sit and wait the coming of the sun <br />We sit in groups, — grey groups that watch the moon. <br />We stretch our legs and murmur half in sleep <br />And touch the tips of bayonets and yarn. <br />Our hands are cold. They strangely grope and creep, <br />Tugging at ends of straps. We wait the dawn! <br />Some men come stumbling past in single file. <br />And scrape the trench’s side and scatter sand. <br />They trip and curse and go. Perhaps we smile. <br />We wait the dawn! … The dawn is close at hand! <br />A gentle rustling runs along the line. <br />‘At every cost,’ they said, ‘it must be done.’ <br />A hundred eyes are staring for the sign. <br />It’s coming! Look! … Our God’s own laughing sun!<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-attack-at-dawn/
