He cries, in the first line in _Happy England_, and, as he remembers the peace of England, "her woods and wilds, her loveliness," he exclaims: O what a deep contented night The sun from out her Eastern seas Would bring the dust which in her sight Had given its all for these! So beautiful a spirit as Mr. de la Mare's, however, could not remain content with idealizing from afar the sacrifices and heroism of dying men. In the long poem called _Motley_ he turns from the heroism to the madness of war, translating his vision into a fool's song: