How different, in the middle of
snows, the great
school rises red!
A red rock silent
and shadowless, clung round
with clusters of
shouting lads,
Some
few dark-cleaving the doorway, souls that
cling as the souls of the
dead
In
stupor persist at the gates of life, obstinate
dark monads.
This new red rock in a waste of
white rises against
the day
With shelter now, and with
blandishment, since
the winds have had their
way
And laid the
desert horrific of silence and snow on
the world of
mankind,
School now is the rock in this weary land the
winter
burns and makes
blind.