For well we know they cannot understand;
So each sits quiet by his own hearth fire,
And sees therein the sights of No Man’s Land!
They feel our strangeness, too—those at one side
Who chatter of the things of every day;
They mark our silences, our strange reserve,
“Ah, he is changed!” they shake their heads and say.
They say the dead return not, but I think
We know, who have come back from No Man’s Land,