THE BRIDGE OF FIRE
IV
Shadows there are that seem to look for home,
Each one a gloom upon the stellar plain,
Voiced like a great bell swinging in a dome,
Appealing mightily for realms to reign.
One said—"These are the shapeless Gods of Rome,
The tired-out Gods of labour, sweat and pain:
These watched the peasant turn his sullen loam,
These dragged him forth to fight and strive again,—
Saturnus white and old,
Who lost the age of gold,
Mars and Minerva standing on the slain,
Pomona from whose womb
The fruits in season come,
And she who gathers in the mellow grain,
And ghouls of the revengeful dead,
Larvae and Lemures that clamour to be fed."
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