Classic Poem

As I am sitting down to my midday meal an orderly gives me a telegram:
Hill 71. Two couchés. Send car at once.

The uptilted country-side is a checker-board of green and grey, and, except where groves of trees rise like islands, cultivated to the last acre. But as we near the firing-line all efforts to till the land cease, and the ungathered beets of last year have grown to seed. Amid rank unkempt fields I race over a road that is pitted with obus-holes; I pass a line of guns painted like snakes, and drawn by horses dyed khaki-color; then soldiers coming from the trenches, mud-caked and ineffably weary; then a race over a bit of road that is exposed; then, buried in the hill-side, the dressing station.
The two wounded are put into my car. From hip to heel one is swathed in bandages; the other has a great white turban on his head, with a red patch on it that spreads and spreads. They stare dully, but make no sound. As I crank the car there is a shrill screaming noise. â?¦ About thirty yards away I hear an explosion like a mine-blast, followed by a sudden belch of coal-black smoke. I stare at it in a dazed way. Then the doctor says: — Don't trouble to analyze your sensations. Better get off. You're only drawing their fire. —
Here is one of my experiences:

A CASUALTY

That boy I took in the car last night,
With the body that awfully sagged away,
And the lips blood-crisped, and the eyes flame-bright,
And the poor hands folded and cold as clay —
Oh, I've thought and I've thought of him all the day.

For the weary old doctor says to me:
— He'll only last for an hour or so.
Both of his legs below the knee
Blown off by a bomb. â?¦ So, lad, go slow,
And please remember, he doesn't know. —

So I tried to drive with never a jar;
And there was I cursing the road like mad,
When I hears a ghost of a voice from the car:
— Tell me, old chap, have I — copped it& — bad? —
So I answers — No, — and he says, — I'm glad. —

— Glad, — says he, — for at twenty-two
Life's so splendid, I hate to go.
There's so much good that a chap might do,
And I've fought from the start and I've suffered so.
'Twould be hard to get knocked out now, you know. —

— Forget it, — says I; then I drove awhile,
And I passed him a cheery word or two;
But he didn't answer for many a mile,
So just as the hospital hove in view,
Says I: — Is there nothing that I can do? —

Then he opens his eyes and he smiles at me;
And he takes my hand in his trembling hold;
— Thank you — you're far too kind, — says he:
— I'm awfully comfy — stay â?¦ let's see:
I fancy my blanket's come unrolled —
My feet , please wrap 'em — they're cold â?¦ they're cold. —