'Trench Winter, November 1916'

No shelter from the kniving wind,
No solace from the driving snow.
No warmth, no comfort or bright cheer
In heav'n above or earth below.

My soul longs to be far from here,
To be with those who care for me.
Far from the noise of clonflict grim
Where lives are toss'd on Death's dark sea.

by Private Noel Clark.

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