Dearest! no more!-- We shall never part!-- So. Turn your face as you did before.--
I smooth your brow And kiss you.--Now.... Tell me true-- Did you miss me, dear, as I missed you?
Above the world a glare Of sunset--guns and spears; An army, no one hears, Of mist and air: Long lines of bronze and gold, Huge helmets, each a cloud; And then a fortress old There in the night that phantoms seem to crowd.
A face of flame; a hand Of crimson alchemy Is waved: and, solemnly, At its command, Opens a fiery well, A burning hole, From which a stream of hell, A river of blood, in frenzy, seems to roll.
And there, upon a throne, Like some vast precipice, Above that River of Dis, Behold a King! alone! Around whom shapes of blood Take form: each one the peer Of those, who, in the wood Of Dante's Hell froze up the heart with fear.
Then shapes, that breast to breast Gallop to face a foe: And through the crimson glow Th' imperial crest Of him whose banner flies Above a world that burns, A raven in the skies, And as it flies into a Death's-Head turns. The wild trees writhe and twist Their gaunt limbs, wrung with fear: And now into my ear A word seems hissed; A message, filled with dread, A dark, foreboding word,-- "Behold! we are the dead, Who here on Earth lived only by the sword!"
Upon the iron crags of War I heard his terrible daughters In battle speak while at their feet, In gulfs of human waters, A voice, intoning, "Where is God?" in ceaseless sorrow beat: And to my heart, in doubt, I said, "God?--God's above the storm! O heart, be brave, be comforted, And keep your hearth-stone warm For her who breasts the storm-- God's Peace, the fair of form." I heard the Battle Angels cry above the slain's red mountains, While from their wings the lightnings hurled Of Death's destroying fountains, And thunder of their revels rolled around the ruined world: Still to my heart, in fear, I cried, "God?--God is watching there! My heart,--oh, keep the doorway wide Here in your House of Care, For her who wanders there, God's Peace, with happy hair."
The darkness and the battle passed: and rushing on wild pinions The hosts of Havoc shrieked their hate And fled to Hell's dominions,-- And, lo! I heard, out in the night, a knocking at the gate: And one who cried aloud to me:-- "The night and storm are gone! Oh, open wide the door and see Who waits here in the dawn!-- Peace, with God's splendor on Back to the sad world drawn!"