| |
| WE stood at Stonehenge as the evening fell. | |
| A mist had gathered and the reddened sun | |
| Glowed like an altar-fire upon the edge | |
| Of Salisbury Plain. The aged stones, | |
| To whom our thousand years of fear and hope, | 5 |
| Of war and peace, were but as yesterday, | |
| Merged into the shadows. The solemn night, | |
| The mystery, the burden of gray Time | |
| Awed us to silence. And then, from the heart | |
| Of that age-wonted stillness sprang and grew | 10 |
| The iterant throbbing of an aeroplane; | |
| And over our Druid world the marvel sped | |
And vanished.
With the breaking of the spell | |
| Our thought turned to the gradual perfecting | |
| Of this, the century’s new gift to man, | 15 |
| With all its ruthless toll of human life;— | |
| And suddenly the place in which we stood | |
| Grew peopled with strange forms. A priest was there | |
| With naked blade; and prone before him lay | |
| A victim on whose pallid face was writ | 20 |
| The passion of a willing sacrifice. | |
| And spirit unto shrouded spirit spake: | |
| “I give; ye gain; but shall it always be | |
| That life must take its wage of life, and men | |
| Must die that Man may win the goal he seeks?” | 25 |
| And as we turned away, the mighty stones | |
| Seemed dumbly questioning the quiet stars. | |
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