<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519004" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dream</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Moonlight and dew-drenched blossom, and the scent <br>Of summer gardens; these can bring you all <br>Those dreams that in the starlit silence fall: <br>Sweet songs are full of odours. <br>While I went <br>Last night in drizzling dusk along a lane,<br>I passed a squalid farm; from byre and midden <br>Came the rank smell that brought me once again <br>A dream of war that in the past was hidden. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up a disconsolate straggling village street <br>I saw the tired troops trudge: I heard their feet.<br>The cheery Q.M.S. was there to meet <br>And guide our Company in... <br>I watched them stumble <br>Into some crazy hovel, too beat to grumble; <br>Saw them file inward, slipping from their backs <br>Rifles, equipment, packs.<br>On filthy straw they sit in the gloom, each face <br>Bowed to patched, sodden boots they must unlace, <br>While the wind chills their sweat through chinks and cracks. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I’m looking at their blistered feet; young Jones <br>Stares up at me, mud-splashed and white and jaded; <br>Out of his eyes the morning light has faded. <br>Old soldiers with three winters in their bones <br>Puff their damp Woodbines, whistle, stretch their toes: <br>They can still grin at me, for each of ’em knows <br>That I’m as tired as they are... <br>Can they guess<br>The secret burden that is always mine?— <br>Pride in their courage; pity for their distress; <br>And burning bitterness <br>That I must take them to the accursèd Line. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I cannot hear their voices, but I see<br>Dim candles in the barn: they gulp their tea, <br>And soon they’ll sleep like logs. Ten miles away <br>The battle winks and thuds in blundering strife. <br>And I must lead them nearer, day by day, <br>To the foul beast of war that bludgeons life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Siegfried+Sassoon">Siegfried Sassoon</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519004" data-title="The Dream de Siegfried Sassoon" data-description="I Moonlight and dew-drenched blossom, and the scent Of summer gardens; these can bring you all Those dreams that in the starlit silence fall: Sweet songs are full of odours. While I went Last night in drizzling dusk along a lane, I passed a ..."></div> </div> </div>

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