So to thy home sweeps down unconquerable
Our iron chariot of the prophet's dream,
Fire-fledged and clothed in cloud and wreathed with steam,
Flashed like a poet's thought through all — cleft hill.
Rent rock and rolling flood and fiery sand,
Laden with Life's humanities, not the brand
Of widow-making war,
To blast thy fields afar,
Like burnings of the intolerable star.
So flies the thunder-bearing steed of flame
Waking each southern silence with his name,
King of his kinsman round the stormy cape,
Whose heart, head, hand to purpose, plan and shape,
Win him a conquerer's fame.