A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash—and all was black.
Out in the wind-voiced darkness, swept by spasmodic deluges of rapid flame and muffled thunder, it seemed I could hear the dream-forests of the moody Master crackling and booming in the gloom.
—looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world.
"Say, how long is that piece?" asked the Kid.
And vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing—
We wondered if there might not be some rattlesnakes in that vicinity.
—They raked up
And, shivering, scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew brighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects—saw and shrieked and died—
"Cut that out!" said the Kid.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because," said the Kid.