To Any Dead Officer
Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you'd say,Because I'd like to know that you're all right.Tell me, have you found everlasting day,Or been sucked in by everlasting night?For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain;I hear you make some cheery old remark--I can rebuild you in my brain,Though you've gone out patrolling in the dark.
You hated tours of trenches; you were proudOf nothing more than having good years to spend;Longed to get home and join the careless crowdOf chaps who work in peace with Time for friend.That's all washed out now. You're beyond the wire;No earthly chance can send you crawling back;You've finished with machine-gun fire--Knocked over in a hopeless dud-attack.
Somehow I always thought you'd get done in,Because you were so desperate keen to live:You were all out to try and save your skin,Well knowing how much the world had got to give.You joked at shells and talked the usual "shop,"Stuck to your dirty job and did it fine:With "Jesus Christ! when will it stop?Three years.... It's hell unless we break their line."
So when they told me you'd been left for deadI wouldn't believe them, feeling it must be true.Next week the bloody Roll of Honour said"Wounded and missing"--(That's the thing to doWhen lads are left in shell-holes dying slow,With nothing but blank sky and wounds that ache,Moaning for water till they knowIt's night, and then it's not worth while to wake!)
Good-bye, old lad! Remember me to God,.And tell Him that our Politicians swearThey won't give in till Prussian Rule's been trodUnder the Heel of England.... Are you there?...Yes ... and the War won't end for at least two years;But we've got stacks of men.... I'm blind with tears,Staring into the dark. Cheero!I wish they'd killed you in a decent show.
Words in this poem
- rebuild v. t.
- To build again, as something which has been demolished; to construct anew; as, to rebuild a house, a wall, a wharf, or a city.
- somehow adv.
- In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
- desperate a.
- Without hope; given to despair; hopeless. [L. desperatus, p. p. of desperare. See Despair, and cf. Desperado.]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- ache n.
- A name given to several species of plants; as, smallage, wild celery, parsley. Holland. [F. ache, L. apium parsley.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
To Any Dead Officer is in the public domain. This text is taken from The War Poems of Siegfried Sassoon, Project Gutenberg ebook #45199; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Siegfried Sassoon, To Any Dead Officer, in The War Poems (1919), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #45199, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/sassoon-war-poems/to-any-dead-officer.html, id L17266.
Form and metre
To Any Dead Officer is 40 lines in 5 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 4 of its 5 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 94% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 9.9 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 20% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCDCD sayA · rightB · dayA · nightB · plainC · remarkD · brainC · darkD
- 2 ABABCDCD proudA · spendB · crowdA · friendB · wireC · backD · fireC · attackD
- 3 ABABCDCD inA · liveB · skinA · giveB · shopC · fineD · stopC · lineD
- 4 ABABCDCD deadA · trueB · saidA · doB · slowC · acheD · knowC · wakeD
- 5 ABABCC-- godA · swearB · trodA · thereB · yearsC · tearsC · cheero · show
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you'd say, | 10 | ·····/···· |
| Because I'd like to know that you're all right. | 10 | ·········· |
| Tell me, have you found everlasting day, | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| Or been sucked in by everlasting night? | 10 | ······˘/˘· |
| For when I shut my eyes your face shows plain; | 10 | ·········· |
| I hear you make some cheery old remark-- | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| I can rebuild you in my brain, | 8 | ··˘/···· |
| Though you've gone out patrolling in the dark. | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| You hated tours of trenches; you were proud | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Of nothing more than having good years to spend; | 11 | ·/˘··/˘···· |
| Longed to get home and join the careless crowd | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Of chaps who work in peace with Time for friend. | 10 | ·········· |
| That's all washed out now. You're beyond the wire; | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| No earthly chance can send you crawling back; | 10 | ·/˘····/˘· |
| You've finished with machine-gun fire-- | 10 | ·/˘˘·˘/·/˘ |
| Knocked over in a hopeless dud-attack. | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| Somehow I always thought you'd get done in, | 10 | /··/˘····· |
| Because you were so desperate keen to live: | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| You were all out to try and save your skin, | 10 | ·········· |
| Well knowing how much the world had got to give. | 10 | ·/········ |
| You joked at shells and talked the usual "shop," | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Stuck to your dirty job and did it fine: | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| With "Jesus Christ! when will it stop? | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Three years.... It's hell unless we break their line." | 10 | ·········· |
| So when they told me you'd been left for dead | 10 | ·········· |
| I wouldn't believe them, feeling it must be true. | 12 | ·/˘˘/·/˘···· |
| Next week the bloody Roll of Honour said | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| "Wounded and missing"--(That's the thing to do | 10 | /˘·/˘····· |
| When lads are left in shell-holes dying slow, | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| With nothing but blank sky and wounds that ache, | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Moaning for water till they know | 8 | /˘·/˘··· |
| It's night, and then it's not worth while to wake!) | 10 | ·········· |
| Good-bye, old lad! Remember me to God,. | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| And tell Him that our Politicians swear | 10 | ····/·˘/˘· |
| They won't give in till Prussian Rule's been trod | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Under the Heel of England.... Are you there?... | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Yes ... and the War won't end for at least two years; | 11 | ··········· |
| But we've got stacks of men.... I'm blind with tears, | 10 | ·········· |
| Staring into the dark. Cheero! | 8 | /˘······ |
| I wish they'd killed you in a decent show. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.