Classic Poem

But in the morning they got them up, and followed the flying foe:
And again each was as an eddy of wind in a cyclone.

And they came to a village of the valley, and they sacked it …
They sent up the ancient houses in flames and smoke,
And they slew old women and old men,
And drove the children before them:
And all was insane vision and red madness …

And the youth, with foam on his lips, went into a cottage door,
And struck down a feeble cripple with his sword.

He laughed over the writhing shape,
And marked the last agony:
A terrible joy was his.