The Silent One

Who died on the wires, and hung there, one of two -- Who for his hours of life had chattered through Infinite lovely chatter of Bucks accent: Yet faced unbroken wires; stepped over, and went A noble fool, faithful to his stripes -- and ended. But I weak, hungry, and willing only for the chance Of line -- to fight in the line, lay down under unbroken Wires, and saw the flashes and kept unshaken, Till the politest voice -- a finicking accent, said: ‘Do you think you might crawl through there: there's a hole.' Darkness, shot at: I smiled, as politely replied -- ‘I'm afraid not, Sir.' There was no hole no way to be seen Nothing but chance of death, after tearing of clothes. Kept flat, and watched the darkness, hearing bullets whizzing -- And thought of music -- and swore deep heart's oaths (Polite to God) and retreated and came on again, Again retreated -- a second time faced the screen.