My lungs still burn from yesterday
And its mustard attacks.  They say
That once they bring the mustard, it
Is as good as over.  We sit
Here in these trenches, waiting for
Our pine boxes and nothing more.
There is no glory left here, where
I have seen more men die in fear
Than I have ever known to live
Happy in peace.  They say to give
Your all for your country, but what
Has my country given me but
Shrapnel in my knee and not one
But two lifetimes' worth of poison
Memories I can't forget.  I
Hear artillery fire still, my
Ears permanently scarred by those
Sounds, even though they've ceased.  The rows
And rows of bodies before me
Have stopped growing for now, but the
Piles will only go higher.  When
Time permits me now and again,
I peep over this earthen cell
To see what we have done so well
In the name of honor.  And I
Sometimes laugh at fire in the sky
And blood on the ground, at all of
The perversity of this.  Love
Your fellow man and all that rap
Left these hearts long ago.  The map
Tells us we're near Verdun, but I
Know that judging more by the sky
We're closer to hell.  It's not bad
As one might think, for the one sad
Truth out here is that each man knows
His turn is next, to follow those
Who died just yesterday.
And it's alright.