Chapter II: The Comrades

The men that marched and sang with me
Are most of them in Flanders now:
I lie abed and hear the wind
Blow softly through the budding bough.

And they are scattered far and wide
In this or that brave regiment;
From trench to trench across the mud
They go the way that others went.

They run with shining bayonet
Or lie and take a careful aim
And theirs it is to learn of death
And theirs the joy and theirs the fame.