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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536270" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dead-beat</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536270" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He dropped, - more sullenly than wearily, <br>Lay stupid like a cod, heavy like meat, <br>And none of us could kick him to his feet; <br>-just blinked at my revolver, blearily; <br>- Didn't appear to know a war was on, <br>Or see the blasted trench at which he stared. <br>'I'll do 'em in,' he whined. 'If this hand's spared, <br>I'll murder them, I will.' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536270" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">A low voice said, <br>'It's Blighty, p'raps, he sees; his pluck's all gone, <br>Dreaming of all the valiant, that aren't dead: <br>Bold uncles, smiling ministerially; <br>Maybe his brave young wife, getting her fun <br>In some new home, improved materially. <br>It's not these stiffs have crazed him; nor the Hun.' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536270" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We sent him down at last, out of the way. <br>Unwounded; - stout lad, too, before that strafe. <br>Malingering? Stretcher-bearers winked, 'Not half!' </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536270" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Next day I heard the Doc's well-whiskied laugh: <br>'That scum you sent last night soon died. Hooray!'</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=Wilfred+Owen">Wilfred Owen</a></strong></div>