Iv

Ghosts of great flags that billowed in the sun With glorious colors above the crowded street, Lifting our hearts to know the rent world one, Teaching the march of Man to hurrying feet, Shall ye not haunt those skyward spaces still With memory of your sun-illumined streaming, Bright brother-angels heralding goodwill, Beckoners of sordid spirits to noble dreaming? Or shall your many beauteous blazonries Fade out from the dulled sense and be forgot, And intimations so august as these Lapse into silence even as they were not, Comrades turn rivals, and heart-fast allies Weavers of schemes, peering with insect eyes?