See, they return; ah, see the tentative
Movements, and the slow feet,          
The trouble in the pace and the uncertain      

See, they return, one, and by one,              
With fear, as half-awakened; 
As if the snow should hesitate           
And murmur in the wind,      
            and half turn back;     
These were the "Wing'd-with-Awe,"         

Gods of the wingèd shoe!      
With them the silver hounds, 
            sniffing the trace of air!         

Haie! Haie!            
    These were the swift to harry;        
These the keen-scented;         
These were the souls of blood.          

Slow on the leash,      
            pallid the leash-men!

This poem is in the public domain.