I stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still:
When dawn was grey I stood with the Dead.
And my slow heart said, "You must kill, you must kill:
"Soldier, soldier, morning is red."
On the shapes of the slain in their crumpled disgrace
I stared for a while through the thin cold rain...
"O lad that I loved, there is rain on your face,
"And your eyes are blurred and sick like the plain."
I stood with the Dead ... They were dead; they were dead;
My heart and my head beat a march of dismay:
And gusts of the wind came dulled by the guns.
"Fall in!" I shouted; "Fall in for your pay!"