A shroud of mist clouded the sky over waitin' forlorn land
And beslimed as after a baleful flood, ground was black as extinguished brands
On the waste edge of morning, bathed in a somber robe of light
Sick light as a ghostly, drowned fetus, intent I watch'd the sad sunrise
And suddenly I heard the sound of low-deep drums
I heard it moved across the still air as a dull complaint from the belly of ground
And then wild shouts rose up in sinister morning
All the hills seems shrive in sinister morning
Of that bloody day
Then I saw a crowd of men with a coat
Of red clay who covered them
They dragg'd some corpse with dreadful
Bellies, unlikely swollen and drawn skin
And some men thrashed the mummies
As a sort of human drums
Others massed up circles stones on
Others twisted themselves in trance
It sounded as if the world were runnin'
And then the hills stood still
Eclipse: first omen of immortality
Was all they could feel, was all I felt
By and by, the boldest stole out of their hovel
To see if time was still there
In that sinister morning of the day of the awe
Nature was in an opal apron
In the new day's morn
And mixing fresher air
In our kind's morn

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