“Exposure” examines the sensations of soldiers slowly freezing to death in the trenches of World War I in a poem of forty lines divided into eight stanzas. The persona of the poem adopts the identity of all the soldiers as they huddle against the wind and snow on the war front waiting for something to happen. As the cold sets in, sentries and ordinary soldiers watch confusing flares in the frontline fortification from which they have withdrawn for the night. Gusts of wind moan on the barbed wire of no-man’s-land like dying men, while guns rumble in the distance, apocalyptic portents of other possible wars. The numb soldiers ask, “What are we doing here?” but nothing happens.
Dawn itself, traditionally a symbol of hope, is ominous as “clouds sag stormy,” the men grow colder and wetter, and the new day marshals its cloudy troops to usher in a new day of fighting for the soldiers. Suddenly, bullets fly but are tossed about by the wind, which appears to be a more powerful instrument of death than the artillery.
In the fifth stanza, the snow and cold send the soldiers into a numbed reverie about home. The bemused soldiers ask of their freezing selves, “Is it that we are dying?” In stanza 6, their disembodied ghosts visit the banked, early-morning fires of home and observe crickets on the hearth and mice playing while the household sleeps; however, the ghosts feel shut out of this domestic scene and must turn back to their own slow deaths on the front. Faith in the comforts and certainties of home clashes with the conviction that God intended for these men to die in cold misery. The love of God itself is remote and seems to be dying.
The last stanza observes that God’s frost will freeze the mud in which the soldiers find themselves, and it will freeze their hands, foreheads, and, finally, their eyes in their final act of dying. The next morning, burial parties with “shovels in their shaking grasp” will half recognize their comrades, who died of exposure while nothing in particular was happening in the war. They were felled by wind, snow, mud, and the seeming indifference of God rather than by wounds caused by bullets and bayonets.