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 :::RENEWAL

VER the heavy hills, over the drowning seas, The shadows ride; And the bowed necks of the gods, Drooping like willow-trees, Sink side by side. While over their heads the shadows go, Drifting, whirling across the sky, And voices that are not voices flow, Flow and mingle and lose themselves In a cry that is no cry. It must have been in a broken dream Somewhere else than under our heaven, That I saw the yellow cowslips gleam And marigolds to the meadows given. For while such murder as this is done And shadows like this ride on the night, How can the feet of the spring be light? How can the sap through the branches run? The natural look of human faces Is altered. Delicate thoughts are fled. Torn and gashed in blood-strewn places, More than the heart can count lie dead. Bow low your heads, ye gods! While the troops of the murdered Rush by you, rush by you on terrible wings. Bow low your heads, ye gods! It is not you who will bring us better things.