THE WANDERER

Between the death of day and birth of night,

By War's red light,

I met with one in trailing sorrows clad,

Whose features had

The look of Him who died to set men right.

Around him many horrors, like great worms,

Terrific forms,

Crawled, helmed like hippogriff and rosmarine,—

Gaunt and obscene,

Urged on to battle with a thousand arms.

Columns of steel, and iron belching flame,

Before them came:

And cities crumbled; and amid them trod

Havoc, their god,

With Desolation that no tongue may name.

And out of Heaven came a burning breath,

And on it Death,

Riding: before him, huge and bellowing herds

Of beasts, like birds,

Bat-winged and demon, nothing conquereth.

Hag-lights went by, and Fear that shrieks and dies;

And mouths, with cries

Of famine; and the madness of Despair;

And everywhere

Curses, like kings, with ever-burning eyes.

And, lo! the shadow shook and cried a name,

That grew a flame

Above the world, and said, “Give heed! give heed!

See how they bleed!

My wounds! my wounds!— Was it for this I came?

“Where is the love for which I shed my blood?

And where the good

I preached and died for?— Lo! ye have denied

And crucified

Me here again, who swore me brotherhood!”

Then overhead the vault of night was rent:

The firmament

Winged thunder over of aerial craft;

And Battle laughed

Titanic laughter as its way it went.