Page:Hemingway - Three Stories and Ten Poems.djvu/60

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CHAMPS D'HONNEUR


Soldiers never do die well;
 Crosses mark the places,
Wooden crosses where they fell,
 Stuck above their faces.
Soldiers pitch and cough and twitch—
 All the world roars red and black;
Soldiers smother in a ditch,
 Choking through the whole attack.

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