Page:The Five Nations.djvu/135

Rh Voices of jackals calling

And, loud in the hush between,

A morsel of dry earth falling

From the flanks of the scarred ravine.

And the solemn firmament marches,

And the hosts of heaven rise

Framed through the iron arches—

Banded and barred by the ties,

Till we feel the far track humming,

And we see her headlight plain,

And we gather and wait her coming—

The wonderful north-bound train.

(Few, forgotten and lonely,

Where the white car-windows shine—

No, not combatants—only

Details guarding the line.)

Quick, ere the gift escape us!

Out of the darkness we reach

For a handful of week-old papers

And a mouthful of human speech.