"Oh! Jesus Christ! I'm hit," he said; and died.
Whether he vainly cursed or prayed indeed,
The Bullets chirped - In vain, vain, vain!
Machine-guns chuckled, - Tut-tut! Tut-tut!
And the Big Gun guffawed.

Another sighed, - "O Mother, - Mother, - Dad!"
Then smiled at nothing, childlike, being dead.
And the lofty Shrapnel-cloud
Leisurely gestured, - Fool!
And the splinters spat, and tittered.

"My Love!" one moaned. Love-languid seemed his mood,
Till slowly lowered, his whole faced kissed the mud.
And the Bayonets' long teeth grinned;
Rabbles of Shells hooted and groaned;
And the Gas hissed.

- Wilfred Owen, 1918.