On high, with arms outstretched as in distress,
Cutting the lone grey sky, one broken cross—
—Say, long since seen, long-vanished sign of grace,
Man’s needs, man’s sorrows, why from thy dim height
Thy most austere, remote, abiding place,
Steal’st thou, grey ghost, to visit me to-night?
IV
VAGRANTS
Magician of the labouring brain,
Shepherd who herds a wandering train,