With a thousand pains that vision's face was grained; Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground, And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.

惊恐中担心想象中的那些脸庞有了细纹;,前方的战场上没有血流成河，没有枪炮的轰鸣，或者向下指着的冒烟的枪口下的哀求。

耶鲁公开课 - 现代诗歌课程节选