HORACE HOLLEY ex-'10

Upon mine ear a deep, unbroken roar
Thunders and rolls, as when the moving sea,
Too long asleep, pours on th' resisting shore
Full half his cohorts, tramping audibly.

Yet here's no rushing of exasperate wind,
Booming revolt amidst a factious tide;
Nor hateful shock on toothed reef and blind,
Of foaming waves that with a sob subside.

No! but more fateful than the restless deep,
Whose crested hosts rise high but fall again,
I hear, in solemn and portentous sweep,
The slow, deliberate marshalling of men.

No monarch moves them, pawns to gain a goal;
They felt a fever rising in the soul.

Literary Monthly, 1909.