THE DEATH OF CLARK TODD
A man has been put down
who had no need to die.
A bastard bullet let him go.
For a time he was still aware
at the time he took his last low.
Foreign dirt blew through his share
of a war he had come to know.
I know of no more awful death to compare
His to. He was not a gunner of the town.
To say he was involved would be to lie.
He was only there to see what he could do
in the way of telling it like it seemed to be.
If that man had been put before me
I would have kissed his head and brow
and given him my home’s always honoured seat
and called my fair-haired daughters to anoint his feet.
He would have had no denial.
The wayward bullets called in single file.