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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518933" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Died of Wounds</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518933" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">His wet white face and miserable eyes <br>Brought nurses to him more than groans and sighs: <br>But hoarse and low and rapid rose and fell <br>His troubled voice: he did the business well. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518933" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The ward grew dark; but he was still complaining <br>And calling out for ‘Dickie’. ‘Curse the Wood! <br>‘It’s time to go. O Christ, and what’s the good? <br>‘We’ll never take it, and it’s always raining.’ </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=518933" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I wondered where he’d been; then heard him shout, <br>‘They snipe like hell! O Dickie, don’t go out... <br>I fell asleep ... Next morning he was dead; <br>And some Slight Wound lay smiling on the bed.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Siegfried+Sassoon">Siegfried Sassoon</a></strong></div>

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