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 disgraceI 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!'
