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Suicide In the Trenches


rowan

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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.

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If not through word of mouth or recomendation how do you find out about things? Matters not who i heard that poem from' date=' do you critisis my like of Emily Dickinson "poet" because i was introduced to her works by a begger or is it just Pete Doherty?[/quote']

thats not what i was asking, i guessed you heard it from Doherty. but do you like it because he does?

i happen to think its pretty average.

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