The Ghouls
Helen Hamilton
1882 to 1954
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You strange old ghouls,
Who gloat with dulled old eyes,
Over those lists,
Those dreadful lists,
To see what
Of friend of relation,
However distant,
May be appended
your private Roll of Honour.
Unknowingly you draw, it seems,
From their young bodies,
Dead young bodies,
Fresh life,
value,
Now that yours are ebbing.
You strange old ghouls,
Who gloat with dulled old eyes,
Over those lists,
dreadful lists,
Of young men dead.
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