His groping dreams with grinding claws and fangs.
But someone was beside him; soon he lay
Shuddering because that evil thing had passed.
And death, who'd stepped toward him, paused and stared.
Light many lamps and gather round his bed.
Lend him your eyes, warm blood, and will to live.
Speak to him; rouse him; you may save him yet.
He's young; he hated war; how should he die
When cruel old campaigners win safe through?
But death replied: “I choose him.” So he went,
And there was silence in the summer night;
Silence and safety; and the veils of sleep.
Then, far away, the thudding of the guns.
But it is not a resolution. The final line alerts the reader to what will continue for the rest of the War and for future wars to come.  The simple line “… far away, the thudding of the guns” resumes the horror, picks up again the harsh,  onomatopoeic  sounds of violent conflict.
The Death Bed