Somewhere in France 

Nurse! It was hell in the trenches! Do I worry you when

I yell ?

I'll try not to yell any more; but I have been down in hell !

I've seen-well, I've seen what I've seen, and you are too

young to hear-

But somehow I want to scream it, till nations afar and near

Know all that the kaiser willed should be done to the sons

of men!

I'd rather be here, and dying, than look on such scenes again!

You'd better go out and leave me-and, Nurse, pull the screen

up tight

And I will go on with my dying-it isn't a pretty sight.

I'm gonna kick off in a minute-and-you shouldn't be here

then;

You're young for that sort of doings-but if you'll come back

again,

When what I've to do is finished, and press your cool hand

once more

On my eyes and my redhot forehead-I never have died before,

And, while I don't think I'll struggle, or claw at my throat

and choke,

I'd rather you would not be here. The kick-off isn't a joke;

And you are so young and tender; you'll shrink if I even moan-

And-it is man's work-this dying, and ought to be done alone.

Oh Christ-Oh Jesus-Steady! I hollered again, I guess-

You're there yet? Standing by me with all of your tenderness?

Why don't you do what I told you-pull the screen up and

get outside,

Outside where the winds are blowing on meadows sunkissed

and wide?

You are going to stay right by me ? My eyes saw the trenches

then,

The mud of them red and clotted, the things which had once

been men-

And I wasn't swearing, honest, when I hollered that way,

Nurse;

When a fellow has reached the showdown it isn't time to curse.

I'm glad you wrote my letter-more thankful than I can say-

Put a lock of my hair inside it as soon as I've--gone away-

Her soul is as clean as the prairies, the heart of her under-

stands!-

You ' re a good little sport! Stand closer! Does it hurt when

I grip your hands ?

You told her all that I told you? That I haven't one regret?

And that when my soul's out yonder I know I shall love her

yet?

You might push the screen away-and I'II holIer a last goodbye

To the felIows in all the beds-it ain't such a trick to die.

I'm glad for the fight I made; and I'm glad for the things

we done

In the last of that red day's fighting! We branded the mur-

dering Hun,

And we put the fear of God in the heart of the kaiser too !

And the boys who follow after with the Red and White and

Blue

Will finish the job I worked on-I'm glad that I had the

chance--

For the Flag and Her-you told her?-I'm dying somewhere

in France,

And glad-Are you standing by me? You're a sport! To your

warm heart's core !

I hope that I shan't distress you-I-never-have--died-

Poems for Declamation Table of Conten