Drew through the air signs mightier than words,
And vanished in the sun upon the sands.

Glimpses I caught of faces that have come
Through crowding ages; whisperings of songs;
And prayers for the redress of human wrongs
From voices that upon the earth are dumb.

They were but shadows, but they lent me joy;
They gave me reverence for all who pace
The world with hands raised, evil to destroy,

Who live but for the honour of their race.
They taught me to strike at no idol raised,
Worshipped a space, then left to be dispraised.






FALLEN IDOLS

Stedfastness, shall we find it, then, at all?
Is it that as the winds blow north and south,
So must be praises from the loud world's mouth,
Which on its heroes in their glory fall?

Because the voice grows stiller, or the arm
No longer can beat evils back; because