We came away for a couple of nights, and were billeted in dugouts by Authuille, built against the high sheltering bank called “The Bluff,” and there we passed pleasant hours. They were not shelling us here. The blue Ancre swirled along as though it could not be beaten from its brookish gayness and motion, right against our feet; songs sounded sweetly there, and the simple tune “We were sailing along on a moonlight bay” held me enchanted; I can never escape from that voice in that place.... Poetry with her euphrasy had her triumph, no matter how brief, with many of those pale weary men; nor could she find it strange when they were hurrying up to the canteen kept open there by the South African heavy artillery, or when their song changed to “When the beer is on the table, I’ll be there.” << less