When the bands of earth are broken
' As the spirit’s spell is spoken
On the vast and barren places
Where the unburied wander still ;
As the laughter of young faces ;
As the Word that is the will;
As the life of wells and fountains,
Of the old deep-seated mountains;
As the forest’s desolate sighing;
As the moaning of the earth
Where her seeds are black and dying;
As the earthquake’s sudden birth;
As the vast volcano rending
Its own breasts; as music blending
With young maiden’s loving laughter,
With the joy of fatherhood,
With the cry of Mznads after
Sacrifice by well or wood ;
As the grave religious throng
Moving silently along,
Leading heifers, snowy-footed,
Into glades and sacred groves,
Where the altar-stone is suited
To commemorate the Loves;
As the choir’s most seemly chanting;
As the women’s whispers haunting
Silent woods, or chaster spaces,
Where the river’s water wends;
As the sound, when the white faces
Burn from space, and all earth ends
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