Questions below are based on the following two poems by WWI veteran Siegfried Sassoon. Survivors No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk. Of course they're ‘longing to go out again,' — These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk. They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,— Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride… Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; ... Show more Questions below are based on the following two poems by WWI veteran Siegfried Sassoon. Survivors No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk. Of course they're ‘longing to go out again,' — These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk. They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,— Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride… Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad. Craiglockart Hospital. October, 1917. Siegfried Sassoon Suicide in the Trenches I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go. Show less
Questions below are based on the following two poems by WWI veteran Siegfried Sassoon.
Survivors No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk. Of course they're ‘longing to go out again,' — These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk. They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died,— Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride… Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad. Craiglockart Hospital. October, 1917. Siegfried Sassoon
Suicide in the Trenches I knew a simple soldier boy Who grinned at life in empty joy, Slept soundly through the lonesome dark, And whistled early with the lark. In winter trenches, cowed and glum, With crumps and lice and lack of rum, He put a bullet through his brain. No one spoke of him again. You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye Who cheer when soldier lads march by, Sneak home and pray you'll never know The hell where youth and laughter go.
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