The Ballad of St. Barbara

" WHEN the long grey lines came flooding upon Paris in the plain, We stood and drank of the last free air we never could taste again : They had led us back from the lost battle, to halt we knew not where And stilled us ; and our gaping guns were dumb with our despair. The grey tribes flowed for ever from the infinite lifeless lands And a Norman to a Breton spoke, his chin upon his hands. "There was an end to Ilium ; and an end came to Rome ; And a man plays on a painted stage in the land that he calls home ; Arch after arch of triumph, but floor beyond falling floor, That lead to a low door at last ; and beyond there is no door.
" And the Breton to the Norman spoke, like a small child spoke he, And his sea-blue eyes were empty as his home beside the sea : "There are more windows in one house than there are eyes to see, There are more doors in a man ? s house, but God has hid the key : Ruin is a builder of windows ; her legend witnesseth Barbara, the saint of gunners, and a stay in sudden death. " It seemed the wheel of the world stood still an instant in its turning, More than the kings of the earth that turned with the turning of Valmy mill : While trickled the idle tale and the sea-blue eyes were burning, Still as the heart of a whirlwind the heart of the world stood still.
"Barbara the beautiful Had praise of lute and pen : Her hair was like a summer night Dark and desired of men".