54926: As the team's head-brass

<p dir="ltr"> As the team's head-brass flashed out on the turn<br> The lovers disappeared into the wood.<br> I sat among the boughs of the fallen elm<br> That strewed the angle of the fallow, and<br> Watched the plough narrowing a yellow square<br> Of charlock. Every time the horses turned<br> Instead of treading me down, the ploughman leaned<br> Upon the handles to say or ask a word,<br> About the weather, next about the war.<br> Scraping the share he faced towards the wood,<br> And screwed along the furrow till the brass flashed<br> Once more.<br> The blizzard felled the elm whose crest<br> I sat in, by a woodpecker's round hole,<br> The ploughman said. 'When will they take it away?'<br> 'When the war's over.' So the talk began---<br> One minute and an interval of ten,<br> A minute more and the same interval.<br> 'Have you been out?' 'No.' 'And don't want to, perhaps?'<br> 'If I could only come back again, I should.<br> I could spare an arm. I shouldn't want to lose<br> A leg. If I should lose my head, why, so,<br> I should want nothing more . . . Have many gone<br> From here?' 'Yes.' 'Many lost?' 'Yes, a good few.<br> Only two teams work on the farm this year.<br> One of my mates is dead. The second day<br> In France they killed him. It was back in March,<br> The very night of the blizzard, too. Now if<br> He had stayed here we should have moved the tree.'<br> 'And I should not have sat here. Everything<br> Would have been different. For it would have been<br> Another world.' 'Ay, and a better, though<br> If we could see all all might seem good.' Then<br> The lovers came out of the wood again:<br> The horses started and for the last time<br> I watched the clods crumble and topple over<br> After the ploughshare and the stumbling team.<br></p>