��But the recruits have arrived,
And are waitifig only the first days of icarm weather. . . .
There will be terrible fighting along the whole
line — Now that Spring has come."
I put the paper down . . ,
Something struck out the sun — something unseen ;
Something arose like a dark wave to drown
The goklen streets with a sickly green.
Something polluted the blossoming day
With the touch of decay.
The music thinned and died ;
People seemed hollow-eyed.
Even the faces of children, where gaiety lingers,
Sagged and drooped like banners about to be furled —
And Silence laid its bony fingers
On the lips of the world . . .
A grisly quiet with the power to choke ;
A quiet that only one thing broke ;
One thing alone rose up thereafter ...
Laughter !
Laughter of streams running red.
Laughter of evil things in the night ;
Vultures carousing over the dead ;
Laughter of ghouls.
Chuckling of irliots, cursed with sight.
Laughter of dark and horrible pools.
�� �
