I stand there long, before into the gloom I take my way. There are the pictures of my friends And all the treasures of my room On which my lamp soft radiance sends. And long with lingering gaze I look Upon each much belovèd book. I stand, and dream--before into the gloom I sadly take my way. And now I gain the field whence I must part Upon my quest. My Pegasus of wood and steel Is ready straining at the start. The governor is at the wheel-- And, with an ever-growing roar, Across the hidden fields we soar. So, with one envious look from Earth I part Upon my midnight quest. Beneath me lies the sleeping countryside Hazy and dim, And here and there a little gleam, Like stars upon the heavens wide, Speaks of some wretch who cannot dream-- But on his bed all night must toss And hear me as I pass across, In droning flight above the countryside, Hazy, and huge, and dim. And in the great blue night I ever rise Towards the stars, As to the hostile lands I sail High in the dark and cloudless skies Whose gloom our gloomy wings doth veil. Beneath, a scarce-seen ribbon shows Where through the woods a river flows, As in the shadowy night I ever rise Towards the scattered stars. Now high above War's frontiers do I sit-- Above the lines. Great lights, like flowers, rise and fall: On either side red flashes spit Hot death at those poor souls which crawl On secret errands. O, how grim Must be that midnight slaughter dim! And happy am I that so high I sit Above those cruel lines! Each man beneath me now detests my race With iron hate. Each tiny light I see must shine Upon some grim, unfriendly face, Who curses England's name and mine, And would be glad if both were gone-- But steadily must I fly on, Though every soul beneath me loathes my race With stern, unceasing hate. I see a far-flung City all ablaze With jewelled lamps: I trace its quays, its roads, its squares, And all its intermingled ways, And, as I wonder how it dares To flaunt itself,--the City dies, And in an utter darkness lies, For I have terrified that town ablaze With twinkling, jewelled lamps. But, see!--the furnace with its ruddy breath Which I must wreck! The searchlights sweep across the sky-- Long-fingered ministers of Death-- I look deep in their cold blue eye, Incessant shells with blinding light Show every wire, clear and white! There is the furnace with its ruddy breath Which I must wreck;-- It lies beneath--my time has come at last To do my work! I wait--O! will you never stop Your fearful shells, that burst so fast?-- And then--I hear destruction drop Behind my back as I release Such fearful death with such great ease. Burst on, you shells! My time has come at last To do my deadly work.