Sonnets of the Wingless Hours By Eugene Lee-Hamilton |
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| I. | I.—THE RISING OF THE DEAD. |
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 | Sonnets of the Wingless Hours |  |
I.—THE RISING OF THE DEAD.
I saw a vast bare plain, and, overhead,
A half-chilled sun that shed a sickly light;
While far and wide, till out of reach of sight,
The earth's thin crust was heaving with the dead,
A half-chilled sun that shed a sickly light;
While far and wide, till out of reach of sight,
The earth's thin crust was heaving with the dead,
Who, as they struggled from their dusty bed,
At first mere bones, by countless years made white,
Took gradual flesh, and stood all huddled tight
In mute, dull groups, as yet too numb to dread.
At first mere bones, by countless years made white,
Took gradual flesh, and stood all huddled tight
In mute, dull groups, as yet too numb to dread.
And all the while the summoning trump on high
With rolling thunder never ceased to shake
The livid vault of that unclouded sky,
With rolling thunder never ceased to shake
The livid vault of that unclouded sky,
Calling fresh hosts of skeletons to take
Each his identity; until well-nigh
The whole dry worn-out earth appeared to wake.
Each his identity; until well-nigh
The whole dry worn-out earth appeared to wake.
| Sonnets of the Wingless Hours | |