This is the Fourth of June.
Think not I never dream
The noise of that infernal noon,
The stretchers’ endless stream, The tales of triumphs won,
The night that found them lies,
The wounded wailing in the sun,
The dead, the dust, the flies.
The flies! Oh God, the flies
That soiled the sacred dead,
To see them swarm from dead men’s eyes
And share the soldiers’ bread.
Nor think I now forget
The filth and stench of war,
The corpses on the parapet,
The maggots on the floor.
A.P. Herbert... but I was definitely stumped. :’)