| | Poem Title | First Lines | Period | # Lines | # Reads |
| 1: | A Letter Home. (To Robert Graves) | Here I'm sitting in the gloom | | 74 | 337 |
| 2: | A Working Party | Three hours ago he blundered up the trench, | | 50 | 266 |
| 3: | Aftermath | Have you forgotten yet?... | | 23 | 305 |
| 4: | Arms And The Man | Young Croesus went to pay his call | | 16 | 325 |
| 5: | At Carnoy | Down in the hollow there's the whole Brigade | 1916 | 8 | 298 |
| 6: | Atrocities | You told me, in your drunken-boasting mood, | | 12 | 289 |
| 7: | Attack | At dawn the ridge emerges massed and dun | | 13 | 339 |
| 8: | Autumn | October's bellowing anger breaks and cleaves | | 9 | 322 |
| 9: | Banishment | I am banished from the patient men who fight. | | 14 | 309 |
| 10: | Base Details | If I were fierce, and bald, and short of breath, | | 10 | 258 |
| 11: | Battalion Relief | Fall in! Now, get a move on!" (Curse the rain.) | | 23 | 263 |
| 12: | Before The Battle | Music of whispering trees | 1916 | 13 | 319 |
| 13: | Blighters | The house is crammed: tier beyond tier they grin | | 8 | 290 |
| 14: | Break Of Day | There seemed a smell of autumn in the air | | 56 | 336 |
| 15: | Concert Party | They are gathering round ... | 1918 | 21 | 308 |
| 16: | Conscripts | Fall in, that awkward squad, and strike no more | | 30 | 264 |
| 17: | Counter-Attack | We'd gained our first objective hours before | | 39 | 278 |
| 18: | Dead Musicians | From you, Beethoven, Bach, Mozart, | | 27 | 368 |
| 19: | Died Of Wounds | His wet, white face and miserable eyes | | 12 | 298 |
| 20: | Does It Matter? | Does it matter? - losing your leg? ... | | 15 | 319 |
| 21: | Dreamers | Soldiers are citizens of death's grey land, | | 14 | 359 |
| 22: | Editorial Impressions | He seemed so certain "all was going well," | | 19 | 282 |
| 23: | Everyone Sang | Everyone suddenly burst out singing; | | 10 | 249 |
| 24: | Fight To A Finish | The boys came back. Bands played and flags were flying, | | 12 | 305 |
| 25: | Glory Of Women | You love us when we're heroes, home on leave, | | 14 | 305 |
| 26: | Haunted | Evening was in the wood, louring with storm. | | 43 | 17 |
| 27: | How To Die | Dark clouds are smouldering into red | | 16 | 320 |
| 28: | I Stood With The Dead | I stood with the Dead, so forsaken and still: | | 12 | 318 |
| 29: | In An Underground Dressing-Station | Quietly they set their burden down: he tried | | 8 | 312 |
| 30: | In Barracks | The barrack-square, washed clean with rain, | | 16 | 284 |
| 31: | In The Pink | So Davies wrote: "This leaves me in the pink." | | 18 | 295 |
| 32: | Invocation | Come down from heaven to meet me when my breath | | 16 | 251 |
| 33: | Joy-Bells | Ring your sweet bells; but let them be farewells | | 12 | 301 |
| 34: | Lamentations | I found him in the guard-room at the Base. | | 10 | 318 |
| 35: | Memorial Tablet | Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight | | 14 | 295 |
| 36: | Night On The Convoy | Out in the blustering darkness, on the deck | 1918 | 22 | 252 |
| 37: | Prelude: The Troops | Dim, gradual thinning of the shapeless gloom | | 26 | 256 |
| 38: | Reconciliation | When you are standing at your hero's grave, | 1918 | 8 | 253 |
| 39: | Remorse | Lost in the swamp and welter of the pit, | | 14 | 280 |
| 40: | Repression Of War Experience | Now light the candles; one; two; there's a moth; | | 39 | 273 |
| 41: | Return Of The Heroes | A lady watches from the crowd, | | 10 | 330 |
| 42: | Sick Leave | When I'm asleep, dreaming and lulled and warm, | | 13 | 283 |
| 43: | Song-Books Of The War | In fifty years, when peace outshines | | 24 | 300 |
| 44: | Stand-To: Good Friday Morning | I'd been on duty from two till four. | | 13 | 316 |
| 45: | Suicide In The Trenches | I knew a simple soldier boy | | 13 | 297 |
| 46: | Survivors | No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain | 1917 | 10 | 257 |
| 47: | The Death-Bed | He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped | | 42 | 294 |
| 48: | The Dragon And The Undying | All night the flares go up; the Dragon sings | | 14 | 15 |
| 49: | The Dream | Moonlight and dew-drenched blossom, and the scent | | 38 | 276 |
| 50: | The Dug-Out | Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled, | | 8 | 283 |
| 51: | The Effect | He'd never seen so many dead before. | | 18 | 321 |
| 52: | The Fathers | Snug at the club two fathers sat, | | 14 | 275 |
| 53: | The General | Good-morning; good-morning!" the General said | | 7 | 246 |
| 54: | The Hawthorn Tree | Not much to me is yonder lane | | 13 | 286 |
| 55: | The Hero | Jack fell as he'd have wished," the Mother said, | | 18 | 282 |
| 56: | The Investiture | God with a Roll of Honour in His hand | | 14 | 272 |
| 57: | The Kiss | To these I turn, in these I trust; | | 12 | 310 |
| 58: | The One-Legged Man | Propped on a stick he viewed the August weald; | | 12 | 321 |
| 59: | The Portrait | I watch you, gazing at me from the wall, | | 24 | 12 |
| 60: | The Rear-Guard | Groping along the tunnel, step by step, | | 25 | 274 |
| 61: | The Road | The road is thronged with women; soldiers pass | | 18 | 252 |
| 62: | The Tombstone-Maker | He primmed his loose red mouth, and leaned his head | | 14 | 296 |
| 63: | The Triumph | When life was a cobweb of stars for Beauty who came | | 8 | 260 |
| 64: | Their Frailty | He's got a Blighty wound. He's safe; and then | | 12 | 256 |
| 65: | They | The Bishop tells us: "When the boys come back | | 12 | 273 |
| 66: | Thrushes | Tossed on the glittering air they soar and skim, | | 10 | 240 |
| 67: | To Any Dead Officer | Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you'd say, | | 40 | 272 |
| 68: | To Victory | Return to greet me, colours that were my joy, | | 16 | 12 |
| 69: | Together | Splashing along the boggy woods all day, | | 14 | 265 |
| 70: | Trench Duty | Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake, | | 14 | 248 |
| 71: | Trench Duty | Shaken from sleep, and numbed and scarce awake, | | 14 | 277 |
| 72: | Twelve Months After | Hullo! here's my platoon, the lot I had last year. | | 14 | 276 |
| 73: | Two Hundred Years After | Trudging by Corbie Ridge one winter's night, | | 14 | 256 |
| 74: | When I'm Among A Blaze Of Lights ... | When I'm among a blaze of lights, | | 14 | 261 |
| 75: | Wirers | Pass it along, the wiring party's going out | | 13 | 300 |
