by Robert Graves
(August 6, 1916 – Officer previously reported died
of wounds, now reported wounded: Graves, Captain R.
Royal Welch Fusiliers.)
…But I was dead, an hour or more.
I woke when I’d already passed the door
That Cerberus guards, and half-way down the road
To Lehthe, as an old Greek signpost showed.
Above me, on my stretcher swinging by,
I saw new stars in a suberrene sky:
A Cross, a Rose in bloom, in Cage with bars,
And a barbed Arrow feathered in fine stars.
I felt the vapours of forgetfulness
Float in my nostrils. Oh, may Heaven bless
Dear Lady Proserpine, who saw me wake,
And stooping over me, for Henna’s sake
Cleaved my poor buzzing head and sent me back
Breathless, with leaping heart along the track.
After me roared and clattered angry hosts
Of demons, heroes, and policemen ghosts.
“Life! life! I can’t be dead! I won’t be dead!
Damned if I’ll die for anyone!” I said…
Cerberus stands and grins above me now,
Wearing three heads – lion, and lynx, and sow.
“Quick, a revolver! But my Webley’s gone,
Stolen! … No bombs … no knife…
The crowd swarms on,
Bellows, hurls stones… not even a honeyed sop…
Nothing… Good Cerberus! … Good dog! … but stop!
Stay! … A great luminous thought … I do believe
There’s still some morphia that I brought on leave.”
Then swiftly Cerberus’ wide mouths I cram
With army biscuit smeared with ration jam;
And sleep lurks in the luscious plum and apple.
He crunches, swallows, stiffens, seems to grapple
With the all-powerful poppy… then a snore,
A crash; the beast blocks up the corridor
With monstrous hairy carcase, red and dun –
Too late! for I’ve sepend through.
O Life! O Sun!