Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/190

 But the wind of the wings of dawn expanding Strikes chill on your hearts as change and death. Ye are old, but ye have not understanding; And proud, but your pride is a dead man's breath. And your wise men, toward whose words and signs ye hearken, And your strong men, in whose hands ye put your trust, Strain eyes to behold but clouds and dreams that darken, Stretch hands that can find but weapons red with rust. Their watchword rings, and the night rejoices, But the lark's note laughs at the night-bird's notes— 'Is virtue verily found in voices? Or is wisdom won when all win votes?