Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/159

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147

THE TWILIGHT OF THE LORDS.

i.

Is the sound a trumpet blown, or a bell for burial tolled,

Whence the whole air vibrates now to the clash of words like swords—
'Let us break their bonds in sunder, and cast away their cords;
Long enough the world has mocked us, and marvelled to behold
How the grown man bears the curb whence his boyhood was controlled'?
Nay, but hearken: surer counsel more sober speech affords:

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