The Fallen 

“What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, the shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells. And bugles calling for them from sad shires.” – Wilfred Owen.
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