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Champs D'Honneur

Soldiers never do die well;

Crosses mark the places —

Wooden crosses where they fell,

Stuck above their faces.

Soldiers pitch and cough and twitch —

All the world roars red and black;

Soldiers smother in a ditch,

Choking through the whole attack.

Written by

Ernest Hemingway

1899-1961 / Male / American

LinesWords: 843

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