Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/43

 And realmless kings inane whose stony eyes Have watched the hour-glass of the centuries.


 * There in the rainless sands
 * The toil of captive hands,

That aye must do as their taskmaster bids,
 * Through years of dusty days
 * Brick by slow brick shall raise

The incarnate pride of kings—the Pyramids— Linked with some name synonymous with slaughter Time has effaced like a name writ in water.


 * For ever with fateful shocks,
 * Roar as of hurtling rocks,

Start fresh embattled hosts with flags unfurled,
 * To meet on battle-fields
 * With clash of spears and shields,

Widowing the world of men to win the world: The hissing air grows dark with iron rain, And groans the earth beneath her sheaves of slain.