Broken, bewildered by the long retreat 
Across the stifling leagues of southern plain, 
Across the scorching leagues of trampled grain, 
Half-stunned, half-blinded, by the trudge of feet
And dusty smother of the August heat, 
He dreamt of flowers in an English lane, 
Of hedgerow flowers glistening after rain --
All-heal and willow-herb and meadow-sweet.
All-heal and willow-herb and meadow-sweet --
The innocent names kept up a cool refrain --
All-heal and willow-herb and meadow-sweet,
Chiming and tinkling in his aching brain, 
Until he babbled like a child again --
"All-heal and willow-herb and meadow-sweet."