While all the legions followed on their journey to the sea.

The moon that shineth overhead once saw these mysteries--
And then the world was young, that hath these many years been old;
If Egypt drank her bitter cup down even to the lees
Who careth now? 'Tis but an ancient tale that hath been told.


Yet still we hear the footsteps--as he goeth to and fro--
Of Azrael, the Angel, that the Lord God sent below,
To Egypt--long ago.




A SONG OF POPPIES

I love red poppies! Imperial red poppies!
Sun-worshippers are they;
Gladly as trees live through a hundred summers
They live one little day.

I love red poppies! Impassioned scarlet poppies!
Ever their strange perfume
Seems like an essence brewed by fairy people
From an immortal bloom.

I love red poppies! Red, silken, swaying poppies!
Deep in their hearts they keep
A magic cure for woe--a draught of Lethe--