TRENCHES in the moonlight, in the lulling moonlight Have had their loveliness; when dancing dewy grasses Caressed us passing along their earthy lanes; When the crucifix hanging over was strangely illumined, And one imagined music, one even heard the brave bird In the sighing orchards flute above the weedy well. There are such moments; forgive me that I note them, Nor gloze that there comes soon the nemesis of beauty, In the fluttering relics that at first glimmer wakened Terror -- the no-man's ditch suddenly forking: There, the enemy's best with bombs and brains and courage! -- Softly, swiftly, at once be animal and angel -- But O no, no, they're Death's malkins dangling in the wire For the moon's interpretation. |