 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
103
A VISION.
I have a vision of a lady bendingOver a wounded warrior clad in mail,
Blood-stained, sore smitten, weak and very pale—
A vision of sweet delicate fingers tending
His feebleness, a fair physician sending
Throughout his veins a draught that doth avail:
And ever and anon I see her fail
And faint half backward, woman's courage ending
For a season; then he smileth—such a smile!
Great eyes of fire glowing back within
The head encased in panoply of tin,
A smile as of a child not knowing guile;
For she hath pitied him who mocked him while
Unwounded, which is worth a death to win.
| Poems and Sonnets | |