He stood alone in some queer sunless place 
Where Armageddon ends. Perhaps he longed 
For days he might have lived; but his young face 
Gazed forth untroubled: and suddenly there thronged 
Round him the hulking Germans that I shot
When for his death my brooding rage was hot. 

He stared at them, half-wondering; and then 
They told him how I?d killed them for his sake? 
Those patient, stupid, sullen ghosts of men; 
And still there seemed no answer he could make.
At last he turned and smiled. One took his hand 
Because his face could make them understand.