Rousing the land with breath of flame, while you beat and beat the drum,

Now as the sound of the drum, hollow and harsh to the last, reverberates round me,

As your ranks, your immortal ranks, return, return from the battles,

As the muskets of the young men yet lean over their shoulders,

As I look on the bayonets bristling over their shoulders,

As those slanted bayonets, whole forests of them appearing in the distance, approach and pass on, returning homeward,

Moving with steady motion, swaying to and fro to the right and left,

Evenly, lightly rising and falling while the steps keep time;

Spirit of hours I knew, all hectic red one day, but pale as death next day,

Touch my mouth ere you depart, press my lips close,

Leave me your pulses of rage—bequeath them to me—fill me with currents convulsive,

Let them scorch and blister out of my chants when you are gone,

Let them identify you to the future in these songs.

[Pg 53]

[Pg 53]

THE RETURN OF THE HEROES

1

For the lands and for these passionate days and for myself,

Now I awhile retire to thee O soil of autumn fields,

Reclining on thy breast, giving myself to thee,

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