[ The Air-Raid ]
Wolf , Wolf, — stay-at-home,
Prowler, — scout,
Clanless and castaways,
And ailing with the drought!
Out from your hidings, hither to the call;
Lift up your eyes to the high wind-fall;
Lift up your eyes from the stagnant spring;
Overhead, overhead! The dragon thing,
What should it bring? —
Poising on the wing?"
" Wolf, wolf, old one, — I saw it, even I;
Yesterday, yesterday, the Thing came by. —
Prowling at the outpost of the last lean wood,
By the gray waste ashes where the minster stood,
And out through the cloister, where the belfry fronts
The market-place, and the town was, once.
High, high, above the bright wide square,
And the folk all flocking together, unaware,
The thing with the wings came there.
Brother Vulture saw it,
And called me as it passed:
" Look and see, look and see ,
Men have wings at last! "
" By the eyeless belfry I saw it, overhead,
Poise like a hawk, — like a storm unshed.
Near the huddled doves there, from a shattered cote,
I watched too. — And it smote.
" Not a threat of thunder, not an armed man,
Where the fury struck, and the fleet fire ran.
But girl-child, man-child, mothers and their young,
New-born of woman with milk upon its tongue;
Nursling where it clung!
" Not a talon reached they, then, the lords of prey!
But left the red dregs there, rent and cast away; —
Fled from the spoil there, scattered things accurst!
It was not for hunger;
It was not for thirst.
" From the eyeless belfry,
Brother Vulture laughed:
" This is all we have to see
For his master-craft?
Old ones, — lean ones,
Never, now to fast ,
Men have wings at last! " "
" Brought they any tiding for us from the Sun?"
" No, my chief, not one."
" Left they not a road-mark, how the way was won?"
" No, my chief, none.
" But girl-child, man-child, creature yet unborn,
Doe and fawn together so, weltering and torn,
New-born of woman where the flag-stones bled:
(Better can the vultures do, for the shamed dead!)
Road-dust, sobbing, where the lightnings burst!
It was not for hunger;
It was not for thirst."
" Brought they not some token that the stars look on?"
" No, my chief, none."
" Never yet a message from the highway overhead?"
" Brother, I have said."
" Old years, gray years, years of growing things,
We have toiled and kept the watch with our wonderings,
But to see what thing should be, when that men had wings.
" Sea-mark, sea-wall, ships above the tide;
Mine and mole-way under-earth, to have its hidden pride,
Not enough; not enough; more and more beside.
" Bridle for our proud of mane; then the triple yoke;
Ox-goad and lash again, and bonded fellow-folk!
Not enough; not enough; — for his master stroke.
" Thunder trapped and muttering and led away for thrall,
Lightnings leashed together then, at his beck and call;
Not enough; not enough, for his wherewithal!
" He must look with evil eye
On the spaces of the sky;
He must scheme and try!
While all we, with dread and awe,
Sheathing and unsheathing claw,
Watch apart, and prophesy
That we never saw. —
" Wings, to seek his more-and-more,
Where we knew us blind;
Wings, to make him conqueror
With his master-mind;
Wings, that he outwatch, outsoar
Eagle and his kind!
" Lo, the dream fulfilled at last! And the dread outgrown,
Broken, as a bird's heart; fallen, as a stone.
What was he, to make afraid? —
Hating all that he had made,
Hating all his own!
" Scatter to your strongholds, till the race is run.
(Doe and fawn together so, soon will it be done.)
Never now, never now, ship without a mast,
In the harbor of the sun, do you make fast!
But the floods shall cleanse again
Every blackened trail of men,
Men with wings, at last!"
Wolf , Wolf, — stay-at-home,
Prowler, — scout,
Clanless and castaways,
And ailing with the drought!
Out from your hidings, hither to the call;
Lift up your eyes to the high wind-fall;
Lift up your eyes from the stagnant spring;
Overhead, overhead! The dragon thing,
What should it bring? —
Poising on the wing?"
" Wolf, wolf, old one, — I saw it, even I;
Yesterday, yesterday, the Thing came by. —
Prowling at the outpost of the last lean wood,
By the gray waste ashes where the minster stood,
And out through the cloister, where the belfry fronts
The market-place, and the town was, once.
High, high, above the bright wide square,
And the folk all flocking together, unaware,
The thing with the wings came there.
Brother Vulture saw it,
And called me as it passed:
" Look and see, look and see ,
Men have wings at last! "
" By the eyeless belfry I saw it, overhead,
Poise like a hawk, — like a storm unshed.
Near the huddled doves there, from a shattered cote,
I watched too. — And it smote.
" Not a threat of thunder, not an armed man,
Where the fury struck, and the fleet fire ran.
But girl-child, man-child, mothers and their young,
New-born of woman with milk upon its tongue;
Nursling where it clung!
" Not a talon reached they, then, the lords of prey!
But left the red dregs there, rent and cast away; —
Fled from the spoil there, scattered things accurst!
It was not for hunger;
It was not for thirst.
" From the eyeless belfry,
Brother Vulture laughed:
" This is all we have to see
For his master-craft?
Old ones, — lean ones,
Never, now to fast ,
Men have wings at last! " "
" Brought they any tiding for us from the Sun?"
" No, my chief, not one."
" Left they not a road-mark, how the way was won?"
" No, my chief, none.
" But girl-child, man-child, creature yet unborn,
Doe and fawn together so, weltering and torn,
New-born of woman where the flag-stones bled:
(Better can the vultures do, for the shamed dead!)
Road-dust, sobbing, where the lightnings burst!
It was not for hunger;
It was not for thirst."
" Brought they not some token that the stars look on?"
" No, my chief, none."
" Never yet a message from the highway overhead?"
" Brother, I have said."
" Old years, gray years, years of growing things,
We have toiled and kept the watch with our wonderings,
But to see what thing should be, when that men had wings.
" Sea-mark, sea-wall, ships above the tide;
Mine and mole-way under-earth, to have its hidden pride,
Not enough; not enough; more and more beside.
" Bridle for our proud of mane; then the triple yoke;
Ox-goad and lash again, and bonded fellow-folk!
Not enough; not enough; — for his master stroke.
" Thunder trapped and muttering and led away for thrall,
Lightnings leashed together then, at his beck and call;
Not enough; not enough, for his wherewithal!
" He must look with evil eye
On the spaces of the sky;
He must scheme and try!
While all we, with dread and awe,
Sheathing and unsheathing claw,
Watch apart, and prophesy
That we never saw. —
" Wings, to seek his more-and-more,
Where we knew us blind;
Wings, to make him conqueror
With his master-mind;
Wings, that he outwatch, outsoar
Eagle and his kind!
" Lo, the dream fulfilled at last! And the dread outgrown,
Broken, as a bird's heart; fallen, as a stone.
What was he, to make afraid? —
Hating all that he had made,
Hating all his own!
" Scatter to your strongholds, till the race is run.
(Doe and fawn together so, soon will it be done.)
Never now, never now, ship without a mast,
In the harbor of the sun, do you make fast!
But the floods shall cleanse again
Every blackened trail of men,
Men with wings, at last!"