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Poem by Robert William Service


The Aftermath


Although my blood I've shed
In war's red wrath,
Oh how I darkly dread
Its aftermath!
Oh how I fear the day
Of my release,
When I must face the fray
Of phoney peace!

When I must fend again
In labour strife;
And toil with sweat and strain
For kids and wife.
The world is so upset
I battled for,
That grimly I regret
The peace of war.

The wounds are hard to heal
Of shell and shard,
But O the way to weal
Is bitter hard!
Though looking back I see
A gory path,
How bloody black can be
War's Aftermath!



Robert William Service


Robert William Service's other poems:
  1. Pullman Porter
  2. The Missal Makers
  3. Trees against the Sky
  4. The Three Voices
  5. Mammy


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