A Battle Song
The day is graying through the black forest, as if it blossomed from the mist. Soon the sun will rise and mutely count the dead sons .
A yellow balloon swings dully in the light breeze — — The airship seems to be the eye of the Lord who sits on the bone-heap throne of Death .
Out of a thousand mouths — lead and flame blaze forth like an evil curse, and uproot all hope for release from human hearts and forest-tree trunks .
And suddenly midst smoke and blast the balloon flashes and flames forth, as flashes in anger the eye of the Lord, as flames the blood in the yellow sand .
Was that the visage of Hate when it appraised the enemy, or has, because of comrades' agony, a human heart burst compassionately within it?
A yellow balloon swings dully in the light breeze — — The airship seems to be the eye of the Lord who sits on the bone-heap throne of Death .
Out of a thousand mouths — lead and flame blaze forth like an evil curse, and uproot all hope for release from human hearts and forest-tree trunks .
And suddenly midst smoke and blast the balloon flashes and flames forth, as flashes in anger the eye of the Lord, as flames the blood in the yellow sand .
Was that the visage of Hate when it appraised the enemy, or has, because of comrades' agony, a human heart burst compassionately within it?
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