At Delville

At Delville I lost three Sergeants —
And never within my ken
Had one of them taken thought for his life
Or cover for aught but his men.

Not for two years of fighting
Through that devilish strain and noise;
Yet one of them called out as he died —
"I've been so ambitious, boys". . .

And I thought to myself, "Ambitious!"
Did he mean that he longed for power?
But I knew that he'd never thought of himself
Save in his dying hour.

And one left a note for his mother,
Saying he gladly died
For England, and wished no better thing . . .
How she must weep with pride.

And one with never a word fell,
Talking's the one thing he'd shirk.
But I never knew him other than keen
For things like danger and work.

Those Sergeants I lost at Delville
On a night that was cruel and black,
They gave their lives for England's sake,
They will never come back.

What of the hundreds in whose hearts
Thoughts no less splendid burn?
I wonder what England will do for them
If ever they return?