THE DUG-OUT
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ay do you lie with your legs ungainly huddied,And one arm bent across your sullen, cold,Exhausted face? It hurts my heart to watch you,Deep-shadow’d from the candle’s guttering gold;And you wonder why I shake you by the shoulder ;Drowsy, you mumble and sigh and turn yourhead S60;You are too young to fall asleep for ever;And when you sleep you remind me of the dead. St. VENANT. July, 1918.
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