Marching out of the dawn of time,

Endless columns of unknown men,

Endless ranks of the stars o'er-arching

Endless ranks of an army marching

Numberless out of the numberless ages,

Men out of every race and clime,

Marching steadily, now as then.

THE SKY-LARK CAGED

I

Beat, little breast, against the wires.

Strive, little wings and misted eyes

Which one wild gleam of memory fires

Beseeching still the unfettered skies,

Whither at dewy dawn you sprang

Quivering with joy from this dark earth and sang.

[Pg 12]

II

And still you sing—your narrow cage

Shall set at least your music free!

Its rapturous wings in glorious rage

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