First World War Poetry Digital Archive

The Immortals


I killed them but they would not die. Yea! all the day and all the night For them I could not rest or sleep, Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.

Then in my agony I turned And made my hands red in their gore. In vain---for faster than I slew They rose more cruel than before.

I killed and killed with slaughter mad; I killed till all my strength was gone. And still they rose to torture me, For Devils only die in fun.

I used to think the devil hid In women's smiles and wine's carouse. I called him Satan, Balzebub. But now I call him, dirty louse.

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