Unnerved, in bayonet-fighting, in the thick,
—Full of red rum and cheers when he began,
Now, in a dream, muttering: “I’ve not the trick.
It’s no good. I’m no good. They’re all too quick.
There! Look there! Look at that!” So Dymer stood,
Suddenly drained of hope. It was no good.
30
He pleaded then. Shame beneath shame. “Forgive.
It may be there are powers I cannot break.
If you are of them, speak. Speak. Let me live.