Answer
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Suddenly he awoke and was running – raw
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In raw-seamed hot khaki, his sweat heavy,
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Stumbling across a field of clods towards a green hedge
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That dazzled with rifle fire, hearing
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Bullets smacking the belly out of the air –
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He lugged a rifle numb as a smashed arm;
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The patriotic tear that had brimmed in his eye
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Sweating like molten iron from the centre of his chest, –
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In bewilderment then he almost stopped –
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In what cold clockwork of the stars and the nations
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Was he the hand pointing that second? He was running
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Like a man who has jumped up in the dark and runs
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Listening between his footfalls for the reason
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Of his still running, and his foot hung like
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Statuary in mid-stride. Then the shot-slashed furrows
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Threw up a yellow hare that rolled like a flame
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And crawled in a threshing circle, its mouth wide
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Open silent, its eyes standing out.
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He plunged past with his bayonet toward the green hedge,
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King, honour, human dignity, etcetera
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Dropped like luxuries in a yelling alarm
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To get out of that blue crackling air
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His terror’s touchy dynamite.
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