<html xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><body><h1 align="" class="head">Desolation</h1><div class="stanza"><p class="line">OVER the bare, blank line of the ridge.</p><p class="line">Over the stump of Sentinel Tree,</p><p class="line">The moon slowly crosses the unseen bridge</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">That is set in the sky from the hills to the sea.</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">The sun's pale sister, moving yet dead.</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">The scars show dark on her weary face:</p><p class="line">Is it strife of a million years that have bled</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Her heart's life, and set Death's frosty sheen in</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">her place?</p></div><div class="stanza"><p class="line">Is she watching our strife, the tired moon? Can she see</p><p class="line">How the earth's face is scarred, her life ebbing fast?</p><p class="line">And only the shorn stump of Sentinel Tree</p><p class="line" style="text-indent:5%">Prays in silence, "How long will her agony last?"</p></div><p>Trenches, December, 1916.</p></body></html> · Great War