64451: Corporal Stare

<p dir="ltr">Back from the Line one night in June<br>I gave a dinner at Béthune:<br>Seven courses, the most gorgeous meal<br>Money could buy or batman steal.<br>Five hungry lads welcomed the fish<br>With shouts that nearly cracked the dish;<br>Asparagus came with tender tops,<br>Strawberries in cream, and mutton chops.<br>Said Jenkins, as my hand he shook,<br>'They'll put this in the history book.'<br>We bawled Church anthems in choro<br>Of Bethlehem and Hermon snow,<br>And drinking songs, a mighty sound<br>To help the good red Pommard round.<br>Stories and laughter interspersed,<br>We drowned a long La Bassée thirst---<br>Trenches in June make throats damned dry.<br>Then through the window suddenly,<br>Badge, stripes and medals all complete,<br>We saw him swagger up the street,<br>Just like a live man---Corporal Stare!<br>Stare! Killed last month at Festubert,<br>Caught on patrol near the Boche wire,<br>Torn horribly by machine-gun fire!<br>He paused, saluted smartly, grinned,<br>Then passed away like a puff of wind,<br>Leaving us blank astonishment.<br>The song broke, up we started, leant<br>Out of the window---nothing there,<br>Not the least shadow of Corporal Stare,<br>Only a quiver of smoke that showed<br>A fag-end dropped on the silent road.</p>