This sonnet is taken from the collection Sonnets of Innocence and Experience, and can also be found in a three-sonnet sample.
And lift your line of vision up to me.
‘No nudity,’ that smirking gendarme warned,
Then lurked about to see what he might see.
What he does not appreciate, that runt,
With his grotesque concern for pubic hair,
Is how my snaps are valued at the front.
Without you, love, we’ll never win la Guerre.
Now smile a little and reveal a breast,
Then part your lips and let them hear you croon;
To see you is to know you; you’re their best –
You give them hope their hell will finish soon.
It’s for our lads who wade through stink and mud
And grip you as they fall, all flecked with blood.