Where Are You Sleeping To-Night, My Lad?

A poem by William Arthur Dunkerley

Where are you sleeping to-night, My Lad,
Above-ground--or below?
The last we heard you were up at the front,
Holding a trench and bearing the brunt;--
But--that was a week ago.

Ay!--that was a week ago, Dear Lad,
And a week is a long, long time,
When a second's enough, in the thick of the strife,
To sever the thread of the bravest life,
And end it in its prime.

Oh, a week is long when so little's enough
To send a man below.
It may be that while we named your name
The bullet sped and the quick end came,--
And the rest we shall never know.

But this we know, Dear Lad,--all's well
With the man who has done his best.
And whether he live, or whether he die,
He is sacred high in our memory;--
And to God we can leave the rest.

So--wherever you're sleeping to-night, Dear Lad,
This one thing we do know,--
When "Last Post" sounds, and He makes His rounds,
Not one of you all will be out of bounds,
Above ground or below.

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