He was wounded and he fell in the midst of hoarse shouting.
The tide passed, and the waves came and whispered about his ankles.
Far off he heard a cock crow -- children laughing,
Rising at dawn to greet the storm of petals
Shaken from apple-boughs; he heard them cry,
And turned again to find the breast of her,
And sank confusèd with a little sigh...
Thereafter water running, and a voice
That seemed to stir and flutter through the trenches
And set dead lips to talking...
-- Alice Corbin.
