To-Niorrr again I have heard darkness of music, Mutter of thunder, ominous, not of the storm That drives blackness before me : I rose from my loneliness And went to the door and took the night in my arms.
Denied justice of sleep, denied even Oblivion to drown me, lethe of thought, denied Vehemence of the very storm that is around me, My heart the inmost treacherous calm of the storm.
Pursued, haunted by music, its terrible sweetness Will take me, will have me, will lose me at the last, Beyond the arms stretched to save me, beyond the voices I hear no longer, nor listen even to hear.
The wood strains in the storm, cymbals of lightni g Strike on the rutting branches, hounds give tongue, Till faint—ah, first like an echo—then louder growing Wakes in the distance the slow unanswerable horn.
O womb of air resounding, sombre, exultant, Rumour of armies trampling, banners flung In rout, neighing of steeds and monsters hurrying, Their reins loosed in panic, the riders thrown.
O bronze centaurs, 0 clash of the fabulthis unicorn, Why must I yield me under those heaving flanks ? Colossus of all the senses fiercely triumphant What will you give me in answer to my defeat ?
R. N. D. Wnsoff,