Classic Poem

Veiled in night's cloak a silent moment came,
When night and dawn, two days together, met
Upon the echoing streets of flint and flame,
That trailed their gold-embroidered skirts of jet
Into the city's gulf of grief and shame: —
And the dead day its crown of thorns did set
Upon the new day's brow, so that its fame
Might never die, and men's souls in the net
Of labour might be caught, ever the same.
So death kissed life and sealed a pact of sin;
We saw it, we who toiled in that last hour.
For as we homeward fled, new men did come
To seize our tools, and carve the dawn's red flower
Triumphantly anew with pain and din!
Yet we were helpless and we had no power;
Like idiots lame, our souls did cringe and cower:
For sleep had left them blind and deaf and dumb.