Siegfried Sassoon, "Haunted"

HauntedEvening was in the wood, louring with storm. A time of drought had sucked the weedy pool And baked the channels; birds had done with song. Thirst was a dream of fountains in the moon, Or willow-music blown across the waterLeisurely sliding on by weir and mill. Uneasy was the man who wandered, brooding, His face a little whiter than the dusk. A drone of sultry wings flicker