 | Joaquin Miller's Poems |  |
XIX
He paused, the last man to retreat,
When all had silent passed the dead,
He stood with bowed, uncovered head,
Devoutest hero of defeat.
And then he turned, hat still in hand,
And bowed before her, low, so low
He almost touched her sandaled feet,
And gently beckoned she should go:
She stirred not and he spake command.
When all had silent passed the dead,
He stood with bowed, uncovered head,
Devoutest hero of defeat.
And then he turned, hat still in hand,
And bowed before her, low, so low
He almost touched her sandaled feet,
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She stirred not and he spake command.
I had not known she was so tall,
Knew not that she was nobly born
Until I saw her black eyes burn
And instant take command of all
In that long, sudden, sad return,
So silent, drooping and forlorn.
Knew not that she was nobly born
Until I saw her black eyes burn
And instant take command of all
In that long, sudden, sad return,
So silent, drooping and forlorn.
She beckoned him and he obeyed,
Kneeled only as brave men can kneel,
Up rose; and then the clank of steel,
The eager clutching of a blade—
And then the sullen tread and tread:
That baying dog behind—the dead!
Kneeled only as brave men can kneel,
Up rose; and then the clank of steel,
The eager clutching of a blade—
And then the sullen tread and tread:
That baying dog behind—the dead!
| Joaquin Miller's Poems | |