“ You have not heard it yet. You have not heard The ghosts that walk in it, the shaking sound. ”

Strong medicine, Bitter medicine of the dead, I drink you now. I hear the unloosed thing, The anger of the ripe wheat⁠—the ripened earth Sullenly quaking like a beaten drum From Kansas to Vermont. I hear the stamp Of the ghost-feet. I hear the ascending sea.

“Glory, Glory Hallelujah,

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah,

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!”