An ungentle breeze
We gather our things and go
Shaking out your hat
Those who do not answer the windMust answer the storm, and timeHastens time for those who sinnedAs judgment pursues hard upon crimeSometimes thunder makes no soundTo announce the storm, we foundIn the wind a pantomime--For those still watch the ground;A new era is born in a fateful dayIt was already born, did they see?"Then Shiloh comes," in the lowly hayOf a feed-trough as the case may beThey pretend tomorrow must bringTheir justice, of it they now singBut another world was set free--And soon they will see it take wing.