"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."
