They would come hasting home to Adam's tent.
They touched his bony fingers; forth they went.
Now Seth, shielding his eyes, sees mistily
Breaking the horizon thirty miles away
(A full day's journey) what but a wisp, a feather,
A thin line, half a nothing—distant smoke!
Blown smoke, a signal from that utmost ridge
Of desolation—the camp fire of Cain.
He to restrain his twelve impetuous sons
(He knows the razor-edge of their young spirit)