Poems (Elliott)/The Winged Fate
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The Winged Fate
Careening through space the aeroplane glides,
Black Death at the back of the man who rides,
Waiting to grasp the hand that guides.
Black Death at the back of the man who rides,
Waiting to grasp the hand that guides.
Companions of Fate, they gaze below
On the serried ranks of the silent foe
Unconscious of their death-dealing blow.
On the serried ranks of the silent foe
Unconscious of their death-dealing blow.
They think of the wondrous things that were,
They gaze on the ruined things that are,
The dire devastation of the war.
They gaze on the ruined things that are,
The dire devastation of the war.
They gaze on ruined temple and fane,
The crowded mass of the heroes slain
And their murderers marked with the brand of Cain.
The crowded mass of the heroes slain
And their murderers marked with the brand of Cain.
The airman falters—the wingèd car
Shoots down through the air like a shooting star
And Death descends in his avatar.
Shoots down through the air like a shooting star
And Death descends in his avatar.