A newspaper, folded up, lay in the dirt.

A dead soldier was stretched with his face hidden in his arm.
Farther off there was a group of four or five corpses keeping mournful company.

A hot sun had blazed upon this spot.
In this place the youth felt that he was an invader.

This forgotten part of the battle ground was owned by the dead men, and he hurried, in the vague apprehension that one of the swollen forms would rise and tell him to begone.
He came finally to a road from which he could see in the distance dark and agitated bodies of troops, smoke-fringed.

In the lane was a blood-stained crowd streaming to the rear.