“That horn!”... But who can hope to recognize
Or name the shrilling bullet in its flight?
And what are names when glory blinds the eyes?
The towns love sport, and cheer; but, half in fright
The laboring peasants stop their ploughs to see
This avalanche—this hurtling mystery!
THE FINISH
Untiring, on their mounts of fire and steel,
The shielded chauffeurs, watchful, hand on wheel,