Part 6 (2/2)

I will pa.s.s the shops where the prices are judged day by day by the people, and come to the place where five roads meet with five tram-routes, and where amid the din of the vans, the lorries, the motor-'busses, the clangorous tram-cars, the news is shouted, and soldiers gather, off-duty.

Here I can feel the heat of Europe's fever; and I can make, as each man makes the beauty of the woman he loves, no spring and no woman's beauty, while that is burning.

D. H. LAWRENCE

ERINNYES

There has been so much noise, Bleeding and shouting and dying, Clamour of death.

There are so many dead, Many have died unconsenting, Their ghosts are angry, unappeased.

So many ghosts among us, Invisible, yet strong, Between me and thee, so many ghosts of the slain.

They come back, over the white sea, in the mist, Invisible, trooping home, the una.s.suaged ghosts Endlessly returning on the uneasy sea.

They set foot on this land to which they have the right, They return relentlessly, in the silence one knows their tread, Mult.i.tudinous, endless, the ghosts coming home again.

They watch us, they press on us, They press their claim upon us, They are angry with us.

What do they want?

We are driven mad, Madly we rush hither and thither: Shouting, ”Revenge, Revenge,”

Crying, ”Pour out the blood of the foe,”

Seeking to appease with blood the insistent ghosts.

Out of blood rise up new ghosts, Grey, stern, angry, unsatisfied, The more we slay and are slain, the more we raise up new ghosts against us.

Till we are mad with terror, seeing the slain Victorious, grey, grisly ghosts in our streets, Grey, unappeased ghosts seated in the music-halls.

The dead triumphant, and the quick cast down, The dead, una.s.suaged and angry, silencing us, Making us pale and bloodless, without resistance.

What do they want, the ghosts, what is it They demand as they stand in menace over against us?

How shall we now appease whom we have raised up?

Since from blood poured out rise only ghosts again, What shall we do, what shall we give to them?

What do they want, forever there on our threshold?

Must we open the doors, and admit them, receive them home, And in the silence, reverently, welcome them, And give them place and honour and service meet?

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