For the mountains' hoarse greetings came hollow
From stormy wind-chasms and caves;
And I heard their wild cataracts wallow;
Like monsters, the white of their waves:
And that shadow said, "Lo! you must follow!
And our path is o'er myriads of graves."
Then I felt that the black earth was porous
And rotten with dust and with bones;
And I knew that the ground that now bore us
Was cadaverous with death as with stones;