Huge, of grinning brass steaming with fresh stains their God gapes with smudged expectant gums above the plain. Flicker through the flames of the wide maw rigid square bodies of men opulence of childbearing women slimness of young men, and girls with small curved breasts. (Loud as musketry rattles the sudden laughter of the dead.) Thicker hotter the blood drips from the cold brass lips. Swift over grainless fields swift over shellplowed lands ever leaner swifter darker bay the hounds of the dead, before them drive the pale ones white limbs scarred and blackened laurel crushed in their cold fingers, the spark quenched in their glazed eyes. Thicker hotter the blood drips from the avenging lips of the brass God; (and rattling loud as musketry the laughter of the unsated dead). * * * * * The clouds have blotted the haggard moon. A harsh wind shrills from the cities of the north Ypres, Lille, Liège, Verdun, and from the tainted valleys the cross-scarred hills. Over the long still plains the wind out of the north rattles the leaves of the liveoaks. _Cuatro Caminos_ XV The weazened old woman without teeth who shivers on the windy street corner displays her roasted chestnuts invitingly like marriageable daughters. _Calle Atocha_ XVI NOCHEBUENA The clattering streets are bright with booths lighted by balancing candleflames ranged with figures in painted clay, Virgins adoring and haloed bambinos, St. Joseph at his joiner's bench Judean shepherds and their sheep camels of the Eastern kings. _Esta noche es noche buena nadie piensa a dormir._ The streets resound with dancing and chortle of tambourines, strong rhythm of dancing drumming of tambourines. Flicker through the greenish lamplight of the clattering cobbled streets flushed faces of men women in mantillas children with dark wide eyes, teeth flashing as they sing: _La santa Virgen es en parto a las dos va desparir. Esta noche es noche buena nadie piensa a dormir._ Beetred faces of women whose black mantillas have slipped from their sleek and gleaming hair, streaming faces of men. With click of heels on the pavingstones boys in tunics are dancing eyes under long black lashes flash as they dance to the drum of tambourines beaten with elbow and palm. A flock of girls comes running squealing down the street.