Siegfried Sassoon, "At Carnoy"

At CarnoyDown in the hollow there's the whole Brigade Camped in four groups: through twilight falling slow I hear a sound of mouth-organs, ill-played, And murmur of voices, gruff, confused, and low. Crouched among thistle-tufts I've watched the glowOf a blurred orange sunset flare and fade; And I'm content. To-morrow we must go To take some cursèd Wood ... O world God made! July 3rd,