None but a genius, we say,
Would make his onset backward in the dark
Or choose this route for getting at the Arc
De Triomphe (Champs Elysées).
Nor to your care for detail are we blind;
Your handiwork we view in
The reeking waste our warriors leave behind;
We read the motions of a master-mind
In that red trail of ruin.
And not alone by yonder blackened beams,