Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/99

Rh Sharply I pass the terse orders down.

The guns stun and rock. The hissing rain is blown

Athwart the hurtling shell that shrilling, shrilling goes

Away into the dark to burst a cloud of rose

Over their trenches.

A pause: I stand and see

Lifting into the night like founts incessantly,

The pistol-lights' pale spores upon the glimmering air

Under them furrowed trenches empty, pallid, bare

And rain snowing trenchward ghostly and white,

O dead in the hedges, sleep ye well to-night!

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