A FACT OF REALITY.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 7, 30 April 1920, Page 1

A FACT OF REALITY.

I'm looking at their blistered feet; young Jones Stares up at me, mud-splashed and white and jaded; Out of his eyes, the morning light- has faded. 01c' soldiers with three winters in their bones Puff their damp Woodbines, whistle, stretch their toes : THEY can still grin at me, for each of 'em knows That I'm as tired as they are .... Can they guess The secret burden that is always mine? — . Pride in their courage ; pity for their distress ; That I must take them to the accursed Line. I cannot hear their voices, but I see Dim candles in the barn ; they gulp their tea, And soon they' 11 sleep like logs. Ten miles away The battle winks and thuds in blundering strife. And I must lead them nearer, day by day, To the foul beasts of war that bludgeons life. Their lives are like the leaves Scattered in flocks, of ruin, tossed and blown Along the western furnace, flaring red. C martyred youth and manhood overthrown, The burden of your wrongs is on my head. What invalid soldier does not know these thoughts, entitled "Sick Leave" When I'm asleep, dreaming and lulled and warm — They come the homeless ones, the noiseless dead. While the dim charging breakeis of the storm Bellow, and drone, and rumble overhead, Gut of the gloom they gather about my bed, And whisper to my heart ; their thoughts are mine, "Why are you here wlth all your watches ended ? From Ypres to Frise we sought you in the Line." Iri bitter safety I awake, unfriended; And while the dawn begins with slashing rain I think of the Battalion in the mud. "When are you goin^ out to them again? Are they not still your brothers our blood?"