Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/93

 And silence fell: the rushing sun
 * Stood still in paths of heat,

Gazing in waves of horror on
 * The dead about my feet.

Never a whir of wing, no bee
 * Stirred o'er the shameful slain;

Nought but a thirsty wasp crept in,
 * Stooped, and came out again.

The very air trembled in fear;
 * Eclipsing shadow seemed

Rising in crimson waves of gloom —
 * On one who dreamed.