Watching the dark my spirit rose in flood
On that most dearest Prelude of my delight
The low lying mist lifted its hood,
The October stars showed nobly in clear night

When I return, and to real music-making,
And play the Prelude, how will it happen them?
Shall I feel as I felt, a sentry hardly waking,
With a dull sense of No Mans Land again?

Ivor Gurney