“Faces of men in torture ... from my mind
They will not go away. The East lay still
In darkness when we left the town behind
Flaming to light the fields. We’d had our will:
We sang, ‘Oh, we will make the frost distil
From Time’s grey forehead into living dew
And break whatever has been and build new.’
32
“Day found us on the border of this wood,
Blear-eyed and pale. Then the most part began