Iii

Unto some issue, Whither? No one dreamed What menace crouched behind that bankèd mist, Massing to bear down on us. No one wist What power that shrapnel covered as it screamed Futilely overhead. Scarce more it seemed Than many a day had happed, of trials the least, Vexatious interruption of a feast, A broken night, a day spoiled ere it gleamed. But still the thickening barrage combed the air; Still whistling shrapnel sputtered into smoke; And momently the cobbled roadway shook With sickening thud where freighted monsters took The earth with double thunder. Here and there Blood trickled into hollows. No one spoke.

RASTATT, 27th April