[8] The author of this poem, a Fellow of All Souls, went out to Gallipoli in the Royal Naval Division with Charles Lister, Rupert Brooke, and Denis Browne. He was afterwards killed in France.
I saw a man this morning
Who did not wish to die,
I ask and cannot answer
If otherwise wish I.
Fair broke the day this morning
Against the Dardanelles,
The breeze blew soft, the morn's cheeks
Were cold as cold sea shells.
But other shells are waiting
Across the Ægean sea,
Shrapnel and high explosive,
Shells and hells for me.
O Hell of ships and cities,
Hell of men like me,
Fatal second Helen,
Why must I follow thee?
Achilles came to Troyland,
And I to Chersonese:
He turned from wrath to battle,
And I from three days' peace.
Was it so hard, Achilles,
So very hard to die?
Thou knowest and I know not,
So much the happier I.
I will go back this morning
From Imbros over the sea.
Stand in the trench, Achilles,
Flame-capped, and shout for me.
PATRICK SHAW-STEWART