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I'm not generally a fan of poetry, and on the whole, I'm not enjoying Sassoon's poetry. I don't doubt the passion or the anger, I just don't get much from reading most of it.
This one is a notable exception, though:
Suicide in Trenches
I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
* * * * *
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you'll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
I'm not sure why, but that one really speaks to my emotions in a way that the others (and poems generally) don't. It may be because I've long been angered by people that call for war without thinking about the consequences.
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