Through shell-holes,
puddles of mud,
they trudge.
Over frozen
men in foxholes
they stumble.

Rats dart whistling across the distances.
Dead fingers rain down
& tap on rotting doors.
Signal-rockets,
corpse-lanterns...

To the ditch, to the ditch.

(C) Ernst Toller
03/10/2017


Best Poems of Ernst Toller

• Nightmare
• Spring
• Twilight
• November
• Sentry
• Deutschland
• Factory Smokestacks At Dawn
• The Visitor
• To The Trench
• For The Dead Of The Revolution
• Corpses In The Woods