Hell-raked the man-packed burrows;
And crashed—and crashing, died.
It heard the song of the Dead in Air, as It huddled against the gate;
And once again the Eye peered down—red-rimmed with scorn and hate
For the shameless soul of the nameless one who had neither foe nor mate.
And Eye was shut. But Nakéd Truth bent down to mock the Thing:—
“Thou hast heard the Song of the Red-edged Steel, and the Song of the Crashing Wing:
Shall the word of a black-coat priest avail at Valhalla’s harvesting?
Shalt thou pass free to the Seven Halls—whose life in shame was sped?”
And Truth was dumb. But the brooding word still echoed overhead,