Here must I sit and stare, <br />Withered and wrinkled; <br />Knowing the spaces there <br />With blood are sprinkled. <br />Why in the smoky sky <br />Missed I the sad truth? <br />Why did I not die <br />Young with the blood of youth? <br />Why did I not die <br />Hot in the heat of noon? <br />Here must I sleep and lie <br />Under a cool moon. <br />Here must I die acage, <br />Pale in the pale light. <br />Cold in my icy age, <br />Cold in the icy night.<br /><br />Leon Gellert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-veteran-5/
