Corporal Stare by Robert Graves — Read

Back from the line one night in June, / I gave a dinner at Bethune -- / Seven courses, the most gorgeous meal / Money could buy or batman steal. / Five hungry lads welcomed the fish / With shouts that nearly cracked the dish; / Asparagus came with tender tops, / Strawberries in cream, and mutton chops. / Said Jenkins, as my hand he shook, / "They'll put this in the history book. " / We bawled Church anthems _in choro_ / Of Bethlehem and Hermon snow, / With drinking songs, a jolly sound / To help the good red Pommard round. / Stories and laughter interspersed, / We drowned a long La Bassee thirst -- / Trenches in June make throats damned dry. / Then through the window suddenly, / Badge, stripes and medals all complete, / We saw him swagger up the street, / Just like a live man -- Corporal Stare! / Stare! Killed last May at Festubert.

Caught on patrol near the Boche wire, / Tom horribly by machine-gun fire! / He paused, saluted smartly, grinned, / Then passed away like a puff of wind, / Leaving us blank astonishment. / The song broke, up we started, leant / Out of the window -- nothing there, / Not the least shadow of Corporal Stare, / Only a quiver of smoke that showed / A fag-end dropped on the silent road.