“Comrades, away! the smack of wind is sweet”
Faint as the whisper of dim violins.
“Comrades, away ...” faint as the autumn leaves
(Burnt paper crackling gently on the breeze).
And houses humped like elephants asleep,
Insolent hulks out-sprawled on many miles,
That muffled women’s sobs; for anxiously
They feared the sons would follow in their wake.
And the sons followed; far away, the hills
Exhaled a ripe, new life where no machines