Siegfried Sassoon

(1886 - 1967 / Kent / England)

Siegfried Sassoon Poems

1. In An Underground Dressing Station 3/31/2010
2. Sporting Acquaintances 3/31/2010
3. The Portrait 3/31/2010
4. The Road 3/31/2010
5. Christ And The Soldier 11/25/2014
6. Solar Eclipse 3/31/2010
7. The Rear-Guard 3/31/2010
8. Before Day 3/31/2010
9. Ex-Service 3/31/2010
10. To Leonide Massine In ‘cleopatra’ 1/3/2003
11. The Road To Ruin 3/31/2010
12. The Goldsmith 1/3/2003
13. The Triumph 3/31/2010
14. Grandeur Of Ghosts 3/31/2010
15. What The Captain Said At The Point-To-Point 1/3/2003
16. South Wind 1/3/2003
17. The Working Party 1/3/2003
18. The Redeemer 3/31/2010
19. Because We Are Going 3/31/2010
20. The Hawthorn Tree 1/3/2003
21. Microcosmos 3/31/2010
22. Goblin Revel 1/3/2003
23. Today 1/3/2003
24. Thrushes 1/3/2003
25. Prelude: The Troops 3/31/2010
26. Sassoon's Public Statement Of Defiance 3/31/2010
27. Twelve Months After 1/3/2003
28. Villon 1/3/2003
29. The Heritage 1/3/2003
30. Morning-Land 1/3/2003
31. Two Hundred Years After 1/3/2003
32. Wraiths 1/3/2003
33. Storm And Sunlight 1/3/2003
34. The Investiture 1/3/2003
35. The Redeemer 1/3/2003
36. Editorial Impressions 1/3/2003
37. Invocation 1/3/2003
38. The Fathers 1/3/2003
39. Wonderment 1/3/2003
40. Stand-To: Good Friday Morning 1/3/2003
Best Poem of 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.

Read the full of Suicide In The Trenches

I Stood With The Dead

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.'

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