The darkness crumbles away
It is the same old druid Time as ever,
Only a live thing leaps my hand,
A queer sardonic rat,
The plunging limbers over the shattered track
Racketed with their rusty freight,
Stuck out like many crowns of thorns,
And the rusty stakes like sceptres old
Through these pale cold days
What dark faces burn
Out of three thousand years,
And their wild eyes yearn,
Sombre the night is.
And though we have our lives, we know
What sinister threat lies there.
I killed them, but they would not die.
Yea! all the day and all the night
For them I could not rest or sleep,
Nor guard from them nor hide in flight.