| |
| IN the wet dusk silver sweet, | |
| Down the violet scented ways, | |
| As I moved with quiet feet | |
| I was met by mighty days. | |
| |
| On the hedge the hanging dew | 5 |
| Glassed the eve and stars and skies; | |
| While I gazed a madness grew | |
| Into thundered battle cries. | |
| |
| Where the hawthorn glimmered white, | |
| Flashed the spear and fell the stroke— | 10 |
| Ah, what faces pale and bright | |
| Where the dazzling battle broke! | |
| |
| There a hero-hearted queen | |
| With young beauty lit the van: | |
| Gone! the darkness flowed between | 15 |
| All the ancient wars of man. | |
| |
| While I paced the valley’s gloom | |
| Where the rabbits pattered near, | |
| Shone a temple and a tomb | |
| With the legend carven clear: | 20 |
| |
| “Time put by a myriad fates | |
| That her day might dawn in glory; | |
| Death made wide a million gates | |
| So to close her tragic story.” | |
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