Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/182

 The wind is thwart in their feet; it is full of the shouting of mirth; As one shaketh the sides of a sheet, so it shaketh the ends of the earth.

The sword, the sword is made keen; the iron has opened its mouth; The corn is red that was green; it is bound for the sheaves of the south.

The sound of a word was shed, the sound of the wind as a breath, In the ears of the souls that were dead, in the dust of the deepness of death;

Where the face of the moon is taken, the ways of the stars undone, The light of the whole sky shaken, the light of the face of the sun:

Where the waters are emptied and broken, the waves of the waters are stayed; Where God has bound for a token the darkness that maketh afraid;

Where the sword was covered and hidden, and dust had grown in its side, A word came forth which was bidden, the crying of one that cried: