Half-Hours at Helles (Classic Reprint)
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Excerpt from Half-Hours at Helles
Dedication
Think not, if in these lays
The singer seeks for smiles,
That he forgets the unsmiling days
Beyond the Aegean Isles,
Think not he now pretends
That Helles hours were sweet,
Think not he wrongs the buried friends
We left at Achi's feet.
This is the Fourth of June.
Think not I never dream
The noise of that infernal noon,
The stretchers' endless stream,
The tales of triumph won,
The night that found them lies,
The wounded wailing in the sun,
The dead, the dust, the flies.
The flies! oh God, the flies
That soiled the sacred dead.
To see them swarm from dead men's eyes
And share the soldier's bread!
Nor think I now forget
The filth and stench of war,
The corpses on the parapet,
The maggots in the floor.
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