Straining, yearning, for the vision
Of the doom and the decision—
Haig is moving!
THE GUNS IN SUSSEX
Light green of grass and richer green of bush
Slope upwards to the darkest green of fir.
How still! How deathly still! And yet the hush
Shivers and trembles with some subtle stir,
Some far-off throbbing like a muffled drum,
Beaten in broken rhythm oversea,