The Stretcher-Bearer / Robert Service

 
The Stretcher-Bearer

My stretcher is one scarlet stain,
And as I tries to scrape it clean,
I tell you wot — I'm sick with pain
For all I've 'eard, for all I've seen;
Around me is the 'ellish night,
And as the war's red rim I trace,
I wonder if in 'Eaven's height,
Our God don't turn away 'Is Face.

          I don't care 'oose the Crime may be;
          I 'olds no brief for kin or clan;
          I 'ymns no 'ate: I only see
          As man destroys his brother man;
          I waves no flag: I only know,
          As 'ere beside the dead I wait,
          A million 'earts is weighed with woe,
          A million 'omes is desolate.

In drippin' darkness, far and near,
All night I've sought them woeful ones.
Dawn shudders up and still I 'ear
The crimson chorus of the guns.
Look! like a ball of blood the sun
'Angs o'er the scene of wrath and wrong.
"Quick! Stretcher-bearers on the run!"
O Prince of Peace! 'Ow long, 'ow long?

---
Robert Service
from Rhymes of a Red Cross Man, 1916

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Robert Service biography