Page:Where the Dead Men Lie.djvu/45

Rh High-curled the sharpened beak doth stand, slicing the waters in the lead; The low hull follows, thickly manned by dim, dead men of Asian breed: Swift is her passage, short the view the wan moon's restless rays reveal Of dusky, fierce-eyed warrior crew, of fluttering cloth and flashing steel; Of forms that mouldered ages past, ere from recesses of the sea, With earthquake throes this land was cast in Nature's writhing agony.

As the warm airs of Spring-time chase reluctant snows from off the range, And plant fresh verdure in their place, so the dimvisioned shadows change; And glimpses of what yet shall be bid the past fly beyond all ken, While rising from futurity appear vast colonies of men Who from the sea-coast hills have brought far-quarried spoils to build proud homes Of high-piled palaces, all wrought in sloping roofs and arching domes, Smooth-pillared hall, or cool arcade, and slenderest sky-piercing spire, Where the late-sinking moon has laid her tender tints of mellow fire,