  (“You cannot think how ghastly these battle-fields look under a grey sky. Torn trees are the most terrible things I have ever seen. Absolute blight and curse is on the face of everything.”) The dead land oppressed me; I turned my thoughts away, And went where hill and meadow Are shadowless and gay. Where Coopers stands by Cranham, Where the hill-gashes white Show golden in the sunshine, Our sunshine—God’s delight. Beauty my feet stayed at last Where green was most cool, Trees worthy of all worship I worshipped ... then, O fool, Let my thoughts slide unwitting To other, dreadful trees, ... And found me standing, staring Sick of heart—at these! |
|
