War's 'People
Through the tender amaranthine domesOf angel-evenings echoing summer song, Through the black rock-tombsOf winter, and where autumn floods prolong The midnight roar and tumbling thunder, Through spring's daisy-peeping wonder, Round and beyond and over and under, I see our homes.
Bloom, healing rosiness and wild-wine flowers,Or lift a vain wing in the mire, dropt leaf;Storm-spirit, coil your lightnings round mad towers;Go forth, you marching Seasons, horsemen Hours;Blow silver triumphs, Joy, and knell, grey Grief.
These after-pieces will not now dispelThe scene and a&ion that was learned in hell.These charming veils a thought has strength to waftWith one quick thrill aloft; and then we viewSeasons and hours we better knew,Desperate budding of untimely green,Skies and soft cloud-land savagely serene,Steel or mere sleet that beat past-caring bones,Night-tempest not so loud as those long moans
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