Now and again one heard the swish and the "plop" of gas-shells.
I took hold of the line, and then, “plop,” as the poet said.
The great drops that fell from them, plop—plop, was like tears.
They could hear behind them the plop and tinkle of more globes.
I passed between the tents, and was striding along, when—Plop!
Neither the mud nor the white mortar in these craters ...