III
Unto some issue, Whither? No one dreamed
What menace crouched behind that bankèd mist,
Massing to bear down on us. No one wist
What power that shrapnel covered as it screamed
Futilely overhead. Scarce more it seemed
Than many a day had happed, of trials the least,
Vexatious interruption of a feast,
A broken night, a day spoiled ere it gleamed.
But still the thickening barrage combed the air;
Still whistling shrapnel sputtered into smoke;
And momently the cobbled roadway shook
With sickening thud where freighted monsters took
The earth with double thunder. Here and there
Blood trickled into hollows. No one spoke.
Rastatt, 27th April