Public Domain Poetry And Stories - The Death-Bed by Siegfried Loraine Sassoon
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The Death-Bed

    By Siegfried Loraine Sassoon



    He drowsed and was aware of silence heaped
    Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls;
    Aqueous like floating rays of amber light,
    Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep, -
    Silence and safety; and his mortal shore
    Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death.

    Some one was holding water to his mouth.
    He swallowed, unresisting; moaned and dropped
    Through crimson gloom to darkness; and forgot
    The opiate throb and ache that was his wound.
    Water - calm, sliding green above the weir;
    Water - a sky-lit alley for his boat,
    Bird-voiced, and bordered with reflected flowers
    And shaken hues of summer: drifting down,
    He dipped contented oars, and sighed, and slept.

    Night, with a gust of wind, was in the ward,
    Blowing the curtain to a glimmering curve.
    Night. He was blind; he could not see the stars
    Glinting among the wraiths of wandering cloud;
    Queer blots of colour, purple, scarlet, green,
    Flickered and faded in his drowning eyes.

    Rain; he could hear it rustling through the dark;
    Fragrance and passionless music woven as one;
    Warm rain on drooping roses; pattering showers
    That soak the woods; not the harsh rain that sweeps
    Behind the thunder, but a trickling peace
    Gently and slowly washing life away.

            *        *        *        *        *

    He stirred, shifting his body; then the pain
    Leaped like a prowling beast, and gripped and tore
    His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs.
    But some one was beside him; soon he lay
    Shuddering because that evil thing had passed.
    And Death, who'd stepped toward him, paused and stared.

    Light many lamps and gather round his bed.
    Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live.
    Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet.
    He's young; he hated war; how should he die
    When cruel old campaigners win safe through?

    But Death replied: "I choose him." So he went,
    And there was silence in the summer night;
    Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.
    Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.



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