Page:Lollingdon Downs and other poems, Masefield, 1917.djvu/56

50 XXIII

Here the legion halted, here the ranks were broken,

And the men fell out to gather wood,

And the green wood smoked, and bitter words were spoken,

And the trumpets called to food.

And the sentry on the rampart saw the distance dying

In the smoke of distance blue and far,

And heard the curlew calling and the owl replying

As the night came cold with one star;

And thought of home beyond, over moorland, over marshes,

Over hills, over the sea, across the plains, across the pass,

By a bright sea trodden by the ships of Tarshis,

The farm, with cicadæ in the grass.

And thought, as I, "Perhaps I may be done with living