It is always a shame the the education system rips the soul out of poetry and literature for most people. Here is Wilford Owen’s Anthem for Doomed Youth.

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, –
The shrill, demented6 choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds

The poem was written while in hospital in 1917. He died in 1918 Battle of the Sambre 1 week before the end of the war. His mother received the telegram telling of his death rather poetically as the Church bells rang to proclaim the end of the war.