Desire and
All the sweet pulsing aches
And gentle hurtings
That were you,
Are gone into the sullen dark.
Now in the night you come unsmiling
To lie with me
A dull, cold, rigid bayonet
On my hot-swollen, throbbing soul.
Notes
Before America entered the war Hemingway volunteered and served in the ambulance corps in France; he was transferred to the Paive region of Italy in July, 1918, and shortly after on July 8 was wounded in a mortar attack. This poem apparently looks back to that day.
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