But the world was somehow different; all different. No jingle of bells from the church, no striking of the clock. The clock was taken away.
And instead, the drums. At dawn, the heavy drum rolling its sound on the air. Then the sound of the Dawn-Verse chanted from the tower, in a strong man’s voice:
The voice, and the great drum ceased. And in the dawn the men who had risen stood silent, with arm uplifted, in the moment of change, the women covered their faces and bent their heads. All was changeless still for the moment of change.
Then the light drum rattled swiftly, as the first sparkle of the bright sun flashed in sheer light from the crest of the great hills. The day had begun. People of the world moved on their way.
At about nine o’clock the light drum rattled quickly, and the voice in the tower cried:
“Half way! Half way up the slope of the morning!”
There was the heavy drum at noon, the light drum again at about three o’clock, with the cry:
“Half way! Half way down the slope of afternoon.”
And at sunset again, the great drum rolling, and the voice crying:
And again in the sunset everywhere men stood with lifted faces and hand, and women covered their faces and stood with bowed heads, all was changeless still for the moment of change.
Then the lighter drums suddenly beat, and people moved on into the night.
The world was different, different. The drums seemed to