NOVEMBKR 1. 1915 



THE LAMENT OF THE DRONES 



BY GHACK ALLEN 



X'l more? 



Not ever ever more within the hive 



No more to feel its friendly shelter 'round? 

 No more to sliare its pulsing peace, alive 



With vibrant hum of motion and of sound? 

 And we so powerful-winged and light of 



heart ! 

 or all this life we love are we a part 

 No more? 



No more. 



Not ever ever iiioic within the hive. 



An unimagiiiablo end has come. 

 The things are turning dead that were alive 



And all the .singing voices turning dumb 

 And Life herself, Avho one time bade us be. 

 Has turned away her eyes, which we shall 



see 

 No more. 



/' 



And this the end? 



No end but this for those uncounted days 



Of banquetting, or those mad hours of bliss 

 We went careening, careless, through the ways 



Of miracle and light? No end but this? 

 No end but this. No proud sustaining thought 

 Of deed with rapture or with patience wrought — 

 No end but this. 



More and more 



The dripping night that stalks without the hive 



Draws round us, dread and ghostly, grim and stark; 



Within, the deepest shadows are alive 



With warmth and fragrance, and the very dark 



Dreams day to come. Rut though the great sun burns 



A million dawns awake, the day returns 



To us, no more — no more. 



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