. . .East To be sung delicately, to an improvised tune. This is the order of the music of the morning:— First, from the far East comes but a crooning. The crooning turns to a sunrise singing. Hark to the calm-horn, balm-horn, psalm-horn. Hark to the faint-horn, quaint-horn, saint-horn.... To be sung or read with great speed. Hark to the pace-horn, chase-horn, race-horn. And the holy veil of the dawn has gone. Swiftly the brazen car comes on. It burns in the East as the sunrise burns. I see great flashes where the far trail turns. Its eyes are lamps like the eyes of dragons. It drinks gasoline from big red flagons. Butting through the delicate mists of the morning, It comes like lightning, goes past roaring. It will hail all the wind-mills, taunting, ringing, Dodge the cyclones, Count the milestones, On through the ranges the prairie-dog tills— Scooting . . . Read More