The Conscript

Indifferent, flippant, earnest, but all bored, The doctors sit in the glare of electric light Watching the endless stream of naked white Bodies of men for whom their hasty award Means life or death maybe, or the living death Of mangled limbs, blind eyes, or a darkened brain; And the chairman, as his monocle falls again, Pronounces each doom with easy indifferent breath. Then suddenly I shudder as I see A young man stand before them wearily, Cadaverous as one already dead; But still they stare untroubled as he stands With arms outstretched and drooping thorn-crowned head, The nail-marks glowing in his feet and hands.