Cathedral Voluntary, A - Part 4

IV.

Richer and greater than the world that is,
The world behind the veil is figured out.
O turbine-sweep of galloping cavalries
Harrying the torn flanks of innumerous rout!
What hosts are those obey this bugle and drum
In what imaginary Christendom?
What haggard armies drag this lost retreat
In empires never marched by human feet?
What victors wave these broadswords in the chase,
A cataract of lightnings poured in space?
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