Mist lies heavy on English meadows
As ever in Ypres, but the friendliness
Here is greater in full field and hedge shadow.
And there is less menace and no dreadfulness
As when the Verey lights went up to show the land stark
Dreadful green light baring the ruined trees
Stakes, pools, lostness better hidden dreadful in dark
And not ever reminding of these other fields
Where tall dock and clover is, and that sweet grass yields
For that poisoned; where the cattle hoof makes mark,
And the river drifts slowly along the leas.