ALTENAHR, 1915

Above the crooked roofs the clouds go sailing;

And near the stream, where once I fished for grayling,

The crusty oberkelner stands and scolds.

My rod still hangs upon three nails a-row,

Just where I placed it, if they've left it so,

I'd like to take one little peep and know.

And every time the landlord looks that way

He thinks of me; and will for many a day.

I helped to break up Germany, he'll say.

The little fishes flick their tails, and rise;

They fear no English feathers in their flies.

And I am back in Yorkshire, growing wise.