Now entertain conjecture of a timeWhen creeping murmur and the poring darkFills the wide vessel of the universe.From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night,The hum of either army stilly sounds,That the fixed sentinels almost receiveThe secret whispers of each other’s watch.Fire answers fire, and through their paly flamesEach battle sees the other’s umbered face.
From Henry V. “Umbered face” – for faces by a campfire! – it could not be better.
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