Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 4 (April-September 1914).djvu/15

Vol. IV LJottt7 No.1 3’A PREAD on the roadway, With open-blown jackets Like black, snaring pinions, They swoop down the hill-side, The Cyclists. Seeming dark-plurnaged Birds, after carrion, Careening and circling. Over the dying Of England. She lies with her bosom Beneath them, no longer The Dominant Mother, The Virile—but rotting Before time,