 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XVII
The dappled sky now darkened till
The moon came out, and then was gone,
And all was black and wild and wide.
I should have lost my way and died
Had not that drum beat on and on.
The warm wave swept above my waist;
I pushed right on in eager haste.
I felt a light touch suddenly,
Looked down in dread and lo! 'twas she.
The moon came out, and then was gone,
And all was black and wild and wide.
I should have lost my way and died
Had not that drum beat on and on.
The warm wave swept above my waist;
I pushed right on in eager haste.
I felt a light touch suddenly,
Looked down in dread and lo! 'twas she.
And how could she have passed the line?
And why? I thought her surely crazed;
Or, may be, sadly hurt and dazed,
And took her little hand in mine.
I led her up the shallow sand
Against the somber, wooded land
To where the mango, tamarind
And black, wide-rooted banyan tree
Reached out to ward and welcome me.
And why? I thought her surely crazed;
Or, may be, sadly hurt and dazed,
And took her little hand in mine.
I led her up the shallow sand
Against the somber, wooded land
To where the mango, tamarind
And black, wide-rooted banyan tree
Reached out to ward and welcome me.
I was so worn, so weak and worn
My dripping hands hung down as lead.
I could not lift my sinking head;
I heard the widowed mothers mourn,
Still heard that hoarse dog bark and beat
And knew they would not now retreat.
My dripping hands hung down as lead.
I could not lift my sinking head;
I heard the widowed mothers mourn,
26
And knew they would not now retreat.
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |