Return -- 1917

    "The College will reopen Sept. --."
        `Catalogue'.

    I was just aiming at the jagged hole
    Torn in the yellow sandbags of their trench,
    When something threw me sideways with a wrench,
    And the skies seemed to shrivel like a scroll
    And disappear . . . and propped against the bole
    Of a big elm I lay, and watched the clouds
    Float through the blue, deep sky in speckless crowds,
    And I was clean again, and young, and whole.

    Lord, what a dream that was! And what a doze
    Waiting for Bill to come along to class!
    I've cut it now -- and he -- Oh, hello, Fred!
    Why, what's the matter? -- here -- don't be an ass,
    Sit down and tell me! -- What do you suppose?
    I dreamed I . . . am I . . . wounded? "You are dead." 


Stephan Vincent Benet