Down in the hollow there's the whole Brigade
Camped in four groups: through twilight falling slow
I hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played,
And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low.
Crouched among thistle-tufts I've watched the glow
Of a blurred orange sunset flare and fade;
And I'm content. To-morrow we must go
To take some cursë"d Wood.... O world God made!
July 3rd, 1916.
At Carnoy
Siegfried Loraine Sassoon
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Poem topics: god, july, sunset, world, hear, mouth, orange, slow, sound, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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