I like these places where I used so often to come in the days when everything around me was a hell which I did not see.

Now that I am a ghost returning from the beyond, this hill still draws me through the streets and lanes.

I remember it and it remembers me.
There is something which we share, which I took away with me yonder, everywhere, like a secret.

I hear that despoiled soldier who said, "Where I come from there are fields and paths and the sea; nowhere else in the world is there that," and amid my unhappy memories that extraordinary saying shines like news of the truth.
We sit down on the bank which borders the lane.

We can see the town, the station and carts on the road; and yonder three villages make harmony, sometimes more carefully limned by bursts of sunshine.