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Out from the gloom of the mountain-gorges,
Dark in the glow of the dawn,
See how they scurry like shadow-wrack,
Each in his funeral-cloak of black,
Faint and fade and are gone.


Dancing away down the ribbed ravines,
Chattering ghouls astride the breeze--
Haste, O Beloved, thy weary feet,
Out where the desert and skyland meet,
Merging in mirage-seas.


Beloved, the way was all too long--
(See how they settle around!)
Let the heat-fog's flickering fancy-veil
Cover thy death when the spent limbs fail,
Droop to the sun-baked ground.


Up through the gloom of the mountain-gorges,
Red in the glare of the Sun,
See how they swing in a serried line,
Wheel and hover and weave and twine,
When the bright day is done.