I

Knowing the dead, and how some are disposed, 
Subdued under rubble, water, sand-graves, 
In clenched cinders, not yielding their abused 
Bodies and bonds to those whom war’s chance saves 
Without the law, we grasp, roughly, the song. 
Arrogant acceptance from which song derives 
Is bedded with their blood, makes flourish young 
Roots in ashes. The wilderness revives,