I wake from dreams
V. Babin
I wake from dreams and turning
My vision on the height
I scan the beacons burning
About the fields of night.
Each in its stedfast station
Inflaming heaven they flare;
They sign with conflagration
The empty moors of air.
The signal-fires of warning
They blaze, but none regard;
And on through night to morning
The world runs ruinward.