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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