Holy of holies Confessions of an anarchist [by J. E. Barlas] |
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45
XLI.
[On, on, my soul. Alone amid the fray]
On, on, my soul. Alone amid the frayForever onward, for thy breath is fight
Thine element is battle. Through the night
Amid the red-hot war-bolts t'ward the day
Onward and conquer. The shield tires. Away!
Use the sword only. Though the left fail quite,
What matter while the hilt is in the right,
The point toward the foe? There lies the way.
Do the fires blind thee, eagle of the morn,
That gazest on the red artillery?
Or dost thou flap thy wings, and laugh aloud,
Exulting in the glory of thy scorn,
Or dost thou revel in the flaming sky
Mocking the impotence of the thunder-cloud?
March 29th, 1886.
| Holy of holies | |