Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/106

 With her children's blood the green earth's turning
 * Blood-red—blood-red, too, the cloud-winged sky.

Crackling flare the streets: from the lone steeple
 * The great clock booms forth its ancient chime,

And its dolorous quarters warn the people
 * Of the conquering troops that march with time.

Fallen lies the fair old town, its houses
 * Charred and ruined gape in smoking heaps;

Here with shouts a ruffian band carouses,
 * There an outraged woman vainly weeps.

In the fields where the ripe corn lies mangled,
 * Where the wounded groan beneath the dead,

Friend and foe, now helplessly entangled,
 * Stain red poppies with a guiltier red.

There the dog howls o'er his perished master,
 * There the crow comes circling from afar;

All vile things that batten on disaster
 * Follow feasting in the wake of war.