Xi

Back from it, back! The quelling mandate rang, As the mad moment swooped upon the dream. Straight heathered hillside, mountain, loch, and stream Flashed out of sight, and but the shrapnel sang, And greater guns with stunning double clang Rocked the earth under us. It well might seem All hell was in the air--not without gleam Of hope, the worst might prove the final pang. Men crouched together, shaken as they took That presence far too massive for their fear, A quivering sense that something tidal welled Over their perfect helplessness, and shook The core of being; yet that being held. We knew a limber clattered to the rear.

RASTATT, 30th April