Soldiers are citizens of death’s grey land, Drawing no dividend from time’s to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they stand, Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows. Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win 5 Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives. Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin They think of firelit homes, clean beds and wives. I see them in foul dug-outs, gnawed by rats, And in the ruined trenches, lashed with rain, 10 Dreaming of things they did with balls and bats, And mocked by hopeless longing to regain Bank-holidays, and pictures shows, and spats, And going to the office in the train.
balls and bats — referring to cricket