His Fingers Wake, And Flutter Up The Bed. His Eyes Come Open With A Pull Of Will, Helped By The Yellow May-Flowers By His Head. A Blind-Cord Drawls Across The Window-Sill . . . How Smooth The Floor Of The Ward Is! What A Rug! And Who's That Talking, Somewhere Out Of Sight? Why Are They Laughing? What's Inside That Jug? "Nurse! Doctor!" "Yes; All Right, All Right." But Sudden Dusk Bewilders All The Air-- There Seems No Time To Want A Drink Of Water. Nurse Looks So Far Away. And Everywhere Music And Roses Burnt Through Crimson Slaughter. Cold; Cold; He's Cold; And Yet So Hot: And There'S No Light To See The Voices By-- No Time To Dream, And Ask--He Knows Not What.