Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920.
Robert Graves18951985The Last Post
T
“Lights out! Lights out!” to the deserted square.
On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer:
“God, if it’s this for me next time in France,
O spare the phantom bugle as I lie
Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns,
Dead in a row with other broken ones,
Lying so stiff and still under the sky—
Jolly young Fusiliers, too good to die…”
The music ceased, and the red sunset flare
Was blood about his head as he stood there.