Page:Poems of the Great War - Cunliffe.djvu/233

 ��MEN HAVE WINGS AT LAST

(Air-Craft and the War)

" Wolf, Wolf-stay-at-home,

Prowler, — scout,

Clanless and castaways,

And ailing with the drought.

Out from your hidings, — hither to the call ;

Lift up your eyes to the high wind-fall !

Lift up your eyes from the poisoned spring ;

Overhead, — overhead ! The dragon Thing,

— What should it bring ?

— Poising on the wing ? "

" Wolf, Wolf, Old one, I saw it, even I. Yesterday, yesterday, the Thing came by Prowling at the outpost of the last lean wood, By the gray waste ashes where the minster stood ; And out through the cloister where the belfry fronts The market-place, and the town was once ; High, — high above the bright wide square And the folk all flocking together, unaware, The Thing-with-the-wings came there.

Brother \'ulture saw it

And called me, as it passed :

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