The Deceitful Calm
How unpurposed, how inconsequential
Seemed those southern lines when in the pallor
Of the dying winter
First we went there!
Grass thin-waving in the wind approached them,
Red roofs in the near view feigned survival,
Lovely mockers, when we
There took over.
There war’s holiday seemed, nor though at known times
Gusts of flame and jingling steel descended
On the bare tracks, would you
Picture death there.
Snow or rime-frost made a solemn silence,
Bluish darkness wrapped in dangerous safety;
Old hands thought of tidy
Living-trenches!
There it was, my dear, that I departed,
Scarce a simpler traitor ever! There, too,
Many of you soon paid for
That false mildness.