Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. - Wilfred Owen

I am the enemy you killed, my friend
I knew you in this dark, for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed
I parried, but my hands were loath and cold
Let us sleep now.

"I Saw His Round Mouth's Crimson"

"I saw his round mouth's crimson deepen as it fell,
Like a Sun, in his last deep hour;
Watched the magnificent recession of farewell,
Clouding, half gleam, half glower,
And a last splendour burn the heavens of his cheek.
And in his eyes
The cold stars lighting, very old and bleak,
In different skies."

"Through the dense din, I say, we heard him shout
"I see your lights!" But ours had long died out."