Explore "Portents" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Above the world a glare / Of sunset -- guns and spears; / An army, no one hears, / Of mist and air: / Long lines of bronze and gold, / Huge helmets, each a cloud; / And then a fortress old / There in the night that phantoms seem to crowd.
/ A face of flame; a hand / Of crimson alchemy / Is waved: and, solemnly, / At its command, / Opens a fiery well, / A burning hole, / From which a stream of hell, / A river of blood, in frenzy, seems to roll.