| Robert Graves (1895–1985). Fairies and Fusiliers. 1918. |
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| 16. The Last Post |
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| THE BUGLER sent a call of high romance— | |
| “Lights out! Lights out!” to the deserted square. | |
| On the thin brazen notes he threw a prayer, | |
| “God, if it’s this for me next time in France… | |
| O spare the phantom bugle as I lie | 5 |
| Dead in the gas and smoke and roar of guns, | |
| Dead in a row with the other broken ones | |
| Lying so stiff and still under the sky, | |
| Jolly young Fusiliers too good to die.” | |
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