As with varnish red and glistening <br />Dripped his hair; his feet looked rigid; <br />Raised, he settled stiffly sideways: <br />You could see his hurts were spinal. <br /> <br />He had fallen from an engine, <br />And been dragged along the metals. <br />It was hopeless, and they knew it; <br />So they covered him, and left him. <br /> <br />As he lay, by fits half sentient, <br />Inarticulately moaning, <br />With his stockinged soles protruded <br />Stark and awkward from the blankets, <br /> <br />To his bed there came a woman, <br />Stood and looked and sighed a little, <br />And departed without speaking, <br />As himself a few hours after. <br /> <br />I was told it was his sweetheart. <br />They were on the eve of marriage. <br />She was quiet as a statue, <br />But her lip was grey and writhen.<br /><br />William Ernest Henley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/casualty-4/
