| Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern British Poetry. 1920. |
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| Robert Graves. 1895– |
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| 177. 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 other broken ones, | |
| Lying so stiff and still under the sky— | |
| Jolly young Fusiliers, too good to die..." | |
| The music ceased, and the red sunset flare | 10 |
| Was blood about his head as he stood there. | |
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