Made keener of edge to smite

Than lightning—yea, thou knowest, O mother Night,

Keen as that cry from thy strange children sent

Wherewith the Athenian judgment-shrine was rent,

For wrath that all their wrath was vainly spent,

[Pg 313]

Their wrath for wrong made right

By justice in her own divine despite

That bade pass forth unblamed

The sinless matricide and unashamed?

Yea, what new cry is this, what note more bright

Than their song's wing of words was dark of flight,

What word is this thou hast heard,

Thine and not thine or theirs, O Night, what word

More keen than lightning and more sweet than light?

As all men's hearts grew godlike in one bird

And all those hearts cried on thee, crying with might,

Hear us, O mother Night.

Dumb is the mouth of darkness as of death:

Light, sound and life are one

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