Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed,coughing like hags, we curse through sludge,Till on the hauning flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on,blood-shod.All went lame;all blind ;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired,outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.