The coat without a seam, and other poems

by Helen Gray Cone

EARTH-BROWN ARMIES

Earth-brown armies, on the brown earth whither,

Ant-like swarming, rush ye in your wrath?

—We wrestle and we tug and we pull all together

To shift the giant Dead Thing that lies across the path.

Earth-brown armies, but should it roll and smother,

Log-like topple, and crush you in the clod?

—Earth would pour new armies, one behind another,

To shift the giant Dead Thing that blocks the way of God!