The thrush now slept whose pillow was his wing. So the song ended and the four remained Still in the faint starshine that silvered them, While the low sound went on of broken water Out of the spring and through the darkness flowing Over a stone that held it from the sea. Whether the men spoke after could not be told, A mist from the ground so veiled them, but they waited A little longer till the moon came up; Then on the gilded track leading to the mountains, Against the moon they faded in common gold And earth bore East with all toward the new morning. God's Acre. [Witter Bynner] Because we felt there could not be A mowing in reality So white and feathery-blown and gay With blossoms of wild caraway, I said to Celia, "Let us trace The secret of this pleasant place!" We knew some deeper beauty lay Below the bloom of caraway, And when we bent the white aside We came to paupers who had died: Rough wooden shingles row on row, And God's name written there -- `John Doe'. General William Booth Enters into Heaven. [Vachel Lindsay] (To be sung to the tune of `The Blood of the Lamb' with indicated instrument) I (Bass drum beaten loudly) Booth led boldly with his big bass drum -- (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?) The Saints smiled gravely and they said: "He's come." (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?) Walking lepers followed, rank on rank, Lurching bravoes from the ditches dank, Drabs from the alleyways and drug fiends pale -- Minds still passion-ridden, soul-powers frail: -- Vermin-eaten saints with mouldy breath, Unwashed legions with the ways of Death -- (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?) (Banjos) Every slum had sent its half-a-score The round world over. (Booth had groaned for more.) Every banner that the wide world flies Bloomed with glory and transcendent dyes. Big-voiced lasses made their banjos bang, Tranced, fanatical, they shrieked and sang: -- "Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?" Hallelujah! It was queer to see Bull-necked convicts with that land make free. Loons with trumpets blowed a blare, blare, blare, On, on upward thro' the golden air! (Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?) II (Bass drum slower and softer) Booth died blind and still by Faith he trod, Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God. Booth led boldly, and he looked the chief, Eagle countenance in sharp relief, Beard a-flying, air of high command Unabated in that holy land. (Sweet flute music) Jesus came from out the court-house door, Stretched his hands above the passing poor. Booth saw not, but led his queer ones there Round and round the mighty court-house square. Yet in an instant all that blear review Marched on spotless, clad in raiment new. The lame were straightened, withered limbs uncurled And blind eyes opened on a new, sweet world. (Bass drum louder)