Suddenly he sang across the trenches, <br />vivid in the fleeting hush <br />as a star-shell through the smashed black branches, <br />a more than English thrush. <br /> <br />Suddenly he sang, and those who listened <br />nor moved nor wondered, but <br />heard, all bewitched, the sweet unhastened <br />crystal Magnificat. <br /> <br />One crouched, a muddied rifle clasping, <br />and one filled grenade, <br />but little cared they, while he went lisping <br />the one cleat tune he had. <br /> <br />Paused horror, hate and Hell a moment, <br />(you could almost hear the sigh) <br />and still he sang to them, and so went <br />(suddenly) singing by.<br /><br />Humbert Wolfe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-thrush-in-the-trenches/
