Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/59

 A star more prosperous than the storm-clothed east's Clothed all the warm south-west with light like spring's, When hands of strong men spread the wolves their feasts And from snake-spirited princes plucked the stings; Ere earth, grown all one den of hurtling beasts, Had for her sunshine and her watersprings The fire of hell that warmed the hearts of priests, The wells of blood that slaked the lips of kings. The shadow of night made stone Stood populous and alone, Dense with its dead and loathed of living things That draw not life from death, And as with hell's own breath And clangour of immitigable wings Vexed the fair face of Paris, made Foul in its murderous imminence of sound and shade.