Died of Wounds by Siegfried Sassoon

DIED OF WOUNDS

His wet white face and miserable eyes

Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs;

But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell

His troubled voice: he did the business well.

The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining

And calling out for 'Dickie'. 'Curse the Wood!

It's time to go, O Christ, and what's the good?

We'll never take it, and it's always raining.'

I wondered where he'd been; then heard him shout,

'They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don't go out'...

I fell asleep.... Next morning he was dead;

And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.

by Siegried Sassoon

About the poet:   

Siegried Sassoon was born on the 8th September 1886. He was a poet, writer, and soldier and was decorated for bravery on the Western Front. 

Sassoon became a focal point for dissent within the armed forces when he made a lone protest against the continuation of the war in his "Soldier's Declaration" of 1917, culminating in his admission to a mental hospital; this resulted in his forming a friendship with Wilfred Owen, who was greatly influenced by him. Sassoon later won acclaim for his prose work, notably his three-volume fictionalised autobiography, collectively known as the "Sherston Trilogy".

He died,  aged 80, on 1st September 1967 of stomach cancer.