Joaquin Miller's Poems | ||
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Years after, sheltered from the sunBeneath a Sacramento bay,
A black Muchacho by me lay
Along the long grass crisp and dun,
His brown mule browsing by his side,
And told with all a Peon's pride
How he once fought; how long and well,
Brave breast to breast, red hand to hand,
Against a foe for his fair land,
And how the fierce invader fell;
And, artless, told me how he died;
How walked he from the prison-wall,
Serene, prince-like, as for parade,
And made no note of man or maid,
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How looked he far, half paused, and then
Above the mottled sea of men
Slow kissed his thin hand to the sun;
Then smiled so proudly none had known
But he was stepping to a throne.
Joaquin Miller's Poems | ||