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I heard a clash, and a cry,
And a horseman fleeing the wood.
The moon hid in a cloud.
Deep in shadow I stood.
ВЂ˜Ugly work! ’ thought I,
Holding my breath.
ВЂ˜Men must be cruel and proud,
ВЂ˜Jousting for death’.

With gusty glimmering shone
The moon; and the wind blew colder.
A man went over the hill,
Bent to his horse’s shoulder.
ВЂ˜Time for me to be gone’…
Darkly I fled.
Owls in the wood were shrill,
And the moon sank red.

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Poem Middle-Ages - Siegfried Sassoon