The Dirge

Out of the pregnant darkness, where from fire     To glimmering fire the watchword leaps,     The dirge floats up from those who build the pyre     High and still higher     That yet shall blaze across the verminous deeps.     Farewell, O brother-heart,     Yet we shall not forget;     Though hand from hand must part,     Your hope is with us yet.     The clank of the swaggerers sword     And clink of the graspers gold     Are not so loud as the lovers word     In a thousand echoes rolled.     The lords of the tottering order sit and plot,     With cunning courtesy haggling still:     The insistent chorus cannot be forgot     Its words are shot     Like summoning rockets from the eastern hill.     You, it was you who showed     How Murder made his pact     In busy Greeds abode,     Preparing for the act.     To save the fatherland     They bade your comrades die,     And full in their path you took your stand     To kill the patriot lie.     Now, lest their flags and bags be lost in flame.     The desperate pair have summoned those     Whose love is moderate and whose life is tame     To quench in shame     The light that streams where wind of warning blows.     The ranks of freedom swell,     The flag of love rolls out:     The efficient ranks of hell     Close up in deadly doubt.     Moulded in battles mire,     The bullet found its mark;     A living spirit, winged with fire,     Flares homeward from the dark.