"I mean to be a captain before I do return, Though the winters they may freeze and the summers they may burn, I mean to be a captain and command a hundred men And the women who..." [_A bugle call off._] There is recall. _The doors are opened and the_ SENTRY _goes._ MADMAN. The wild-duck, stringing through the sky, Are south away. Their green necks glitter as they fly, The lake is gray, So still, so lone, the fowler never heeds. The wind goes rustle, rustle, through the reeds. * * * * * * There they find peace to have their own wild souls. In that still lake, Only the moonrise or the wind controls The way they take, Through the gray reeds, the cocking moorhen's lair, Rippling the pool, or over leagues of air. * * * * * * Not thus, not thus are the wild souls of men. No peace for those Who step beyond the blindness of the pen To where the skies unclose. For them the spitting mob, the cross, the crown of thorns, The bull gone mad, the saviour on his horns. * * * * * * Beauty and Peace have made No peace, no still retreat, No solace, none. Only the unafraid Before life's roaring street Touch Beauty's feet, Know Truth, do as God bade, Become God's son. [_Pause._] Darkness come down, cover a brave man's pain. Let the bright soul go back to God again. Cover that tortured flesh, it only serves To hold that thing which other power nerves. Darkness, come down, let it be midnight here, In the dark night the untroubled soul sings clear. [_It darkens._] I have been scourged, blinded and crucified, My blood burns on the stones of every street In every town; wherever people meet I have been hounded down, in anguish died. [_It darkens._] The creaking door of flesh rolls slowly back. Nerve by red nerve the links of living crack, Loosing the soul to tread another track. Beyond the pain, beyond the broken clay, A glimmering country lies Where life is being wise, All of the beauty seen by truthful eyes Are lilies there, growing beside the way. Those golden ones will loose the torted hands, Smooth the scarred brow, gather the breaking soul, Whose earthly moments drop like falling sands To leave the spirit whole. Now darkness is upon the face of the earth. [_He goes._ [PILATE _entering, as the darkness reddens to a glare._] PILATE. This monstrous day is in the pangs of birth. There was a shock. I wish the troops were back From Golgotha. The heavens are more black Than in the great shock in my first year's rule. Please God these zealot pilgrims will keep cool Nor think this done by God for any cause. The lightning jags the heaven in bloody scraws Like chronicles of judgment. Now it breaks. Now rain. PROCULA [_entering_]. O Pilate. PILATE. What? PROCULA. For all our sakes Speak. Where is Jesus? PILATE. He is crucified.