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