Some finer ear that, listening, bends apart.

 "Fly for your lives!"  The entrails of the earth Trembled, resounding to the cry, That, like a chasing ghost, around the mine Crept ghastly: "The pit 's on fire! Fly!" 

Trembled, resounding to the cry,

Crept ghastly: "The pit 's on fire! Fly!"

 ***** 

*****

 The shaft, a poisoned throat whose breath was death, Like hell itself grown sick of sin, Hurled up the men; haggard and terrible; Leaping upon us through the din 

Like hell itself grown sick of sin,

Leaping upon us through the din

 That all our voices made; and back we shrank From them as from the starting dead; Recoiling, shrieked, but knew not why we shrieked; And cried, but knew not what we said. 

From them as from the starting dead;

And cried, but knew not what we said.

 And still that awful mouth did toss them up: "The last is safe! The last is sound!" We sobbed to see them where they sunk and crawled, Like beaten hounds, upon the ground. 

"The last is safe! The last is sound!"

Like beaten hounds, upon the ground.

 Some sat with lolling, idiot head, and laughed; One reached to clutch the air away His gasping lips refused; some cursed; and one Knelt down—but he was old—to pray. 

One reached to clutch the air away

Knelt down—but he was old—to pray.

 We huddled there together all that night, Women and men from the wild Town; I heard a shrill voice cry, "We all are up, But some—ye have forgot—are down!" 

Women and men from the wild Town;

 Prev. P 11/63 next