Xii

’Twixt Nouveau Monde and Laventie there lies A breastwork, where the clearing tempest found Tossed remnants of the cyclone come to ground, Part English, Portuguese in part. The skies Brightened, the housing spirit to entice Into the air; the string its length unwound, And nightmare, having pinioned, now unbound Our helplessness. The hour had come to rise. Alas, the lifting battle-fog proclaimed The line was gone, with those who bore the brunt. Our comrades, whom the fierce Valkyries claimed, Closing upon them in the bloody hunt; And Verey lights at hand too well explained The long and boding silence of the front.

RASTATT, 30th April