IV

Yet but sad comfort from such pain is caught.... I went out from the house and climbed the coombe, And where the first light of sweet morning hung I found the light I sought. From somewhere south a bugle's note was flung, From somewhere north a sombre boom; On the opposing hills white flecks and grey Spotted the misty green, And blue smoke wraiths around the tall trees clung. Presently rose thick dust clouds from the green: Came up, or seemed to come, the instant beat Of marching feet; Then with the clouds the beating died away, And nothing was seen But broken hills and the new flush of day.