# In An Underground Dressing-Station

Quietly they set their burden down: he tried

To grin; moaned; moved his head from side to side.

* * * * *

He gripped the stretcher; stiffened; glared; and screamed,

“O put my leg down, doctor, do!” (He’d got

A bullet in his ankle; and he’d been shot

Horribly through the guts.) The surgeon seemed

So kind and gentle, saying, above that crying,

“You must keep still, my lad.” But he was dying.

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