A Fragment
Upon the crimson-mottled landing beach,
The dying groan among the stiff'ning dead,
And here and there a one as if to teach
The way, half scrambles from his bloody bed
Of yielding sand, towards those rugged slopes-
Then sinking down with gurgling sob, he turns
His eyes upon the sky, and feebly gropes
The air, quite heedless of the sun that burns
And crusts the blood upon his fevered cheek.
(1925)