I've dreamed the death
The thousands dream
Every day of every year
In white masks, they travel on
Humbled but proud
With silent pleas

Their lives fled before them
Like leaves in a storm
And I stand still aside
Watching them file through

The roads are filled with their masses
The ground breaks under their feet
They ask nothing from no one
But still their questions shatter the air

Their lives fled before them
Like leaves in a storm
And I stand still aside
Watching them file through


(by Dickinson)