We marched, and saw a company of Canadians br Their coats weighed eighty pounds at least, we saw them br Faces infinitely grimed in, with almost dead hands br Bent, slouching downwards to billets comfortless and dim. br Cave dwellers last of tribes they seemed, and a pity br Even from us just relieved (much as they were), left us. br Somme, what a desolation's damned land, what iniquity br Of mere being. There of what youth that country bereft us; br Plagues of evil lay in Death's Valley we also had .' br Forded that up to the thighs in chill mud almost still-stood br As they had gone — and endured day as night without sun. br Gone for five days then any sign of life glow br As the notched stumps or the gray clouds (then) we stood; br Dead past death from first hour and the needed mood br Of level pain shifting continually to and fro. br Saskatchewan, Ontario, Quebec, Stewart White ran in br My own mind; what in others? These men who finely br perhaps had chosen danger for reckless and fine chance br Fate had sent for suffering and dwelling obscenely br Vermin eaten, fed beastly, in vile ditches meanly. br (Backwoods or clean Quebec for defiled, ruined, man-killing France br And the silver thrush no more crying Canada — Canada for the memory.