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THE DUG-OUT 107
And poppies crown the parapet that rises from the mud— Where the soldiers' homes—the dug-outs— are built of clay and blood.
Our comrades on the level roofs, the dead men, waste away Upon the soldiers' frontier homes, the crannies in the clay; For on the meadows of Vermelles, and all the country round, The stiff and still stare at the skies, the quick are underground. |
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