Ivor Gurney - The Ballard of the Three Spectres
Channel: PoetryProse Project
Date: 2015-04-02

Written in the trenches of world war one.

As I went up by Ovillers 

In mud and water cold to the knee, 
There went three jeering, fleering spectres, 

That walked abreast and talked of me. 



The first said, " Here's a right brave soldier 
That walks the dark unfearingly ; 

Soon he'll come back on a fine stretcher, 
And laughing for a nice Blighty." 



The second, " Read his face, old comrade, 
No kind of lucky chance I see ; 

One day he'll freeze in mud to the marrow, 
Then look his last on Picardie." 



Though bitter the word of these first twain 
Curses the third spat venomously ; 

" He'll stay untouched till the war's last dawning 
Then live one hour of agony." 

Liars the first two were. Behold me 
At sloping arms by one — two — three ; 

Waiting the time I shall discover 
Whether the third spake verity.