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While mother from her wheel or churn,
He held his bent head very low, A sudden sadness in his air; Then turned and touched my yellow hair And took the long locks in his hand, Toyed with them, smiled, and let them go, Then thrummed about his saddle bow As thought ran swift across his face; Then turning sudden from his place, He gave some short and quick command. They brought the best steed of the band, They swung a bright sword at my side, He bade me mount and by him ride, And from that hour to the end I never felt the need of friend.
Far in the wildest quinine wood
It held one structure grand and mossed, Mighty as any častle sung, And old when oldest Ind was young,
With threshold Christian never cro
My chief led up the marble stepHe ever led, broad blade in handWhen down the stones, with double hand Clutched to his blade, a savage leapt, Hot bent to barter life for life. The chieftain drove his bowie knife Full through his thick and broad breast-bone, And broke the point against the stone, The dark stone of the temple wall. I saw him loose his hold and fall Full length with head hung down the step; I saw run down a ruddy flood Of rushing pulsing human blood. Then from the crowd a woman crept And kissed the gory hands and face, And smote herself. Then one by one The dark crowd crept and did the same, Then bore the dead man from the place. Down darkened aisles the brown priests came, So picture-like, with sandaled feet And long gray dismal grass-wove gowns, So like the pictures of old time, And stood all still and dark of frowns, At blood upon the stone and street. So we laid ready hand to sword And boldly spoke some bitter word;
But they were stubborn still, and stood
We turned toward the massive door
Through marches through the mazy wood, And may be through too much of blood, At last we came down to the seas. A city stood, white-walled and brown With age, in nest of orange trees; And this we won, and many a town And rancho reaching up and down, Then rested in the red-hot days Beneath the blossomed orange trees, Made drowsy with the drum of bees, And drank in peace the south-sea breeze, Made sweet with sweeping boughs of bays.
Well! there were maidens, shy at first, And then, erelong, not over-shy. Yet pure of soul and proudly chare. No love on earth has such an eye! No land there is is blessed or cursed With such a limb or grace of face, Or gracious form, or genial air! In all the bleak Northland not one Hath been so warm of soul to me As coldest soul by that warm sea, Beneath the bright hot centered sun.
No lands where any ices are
I was but in my boyhood then,
With black hair boundless as the night.
O bright, bronzed maidens of the sun! So fairer far to look upon Than curtains of the Solomon, Or Kedar's tents, or anyone, Or anything beneath the sun! What followed then? What ! as been done, And said, and writ, and read, and sung? What will be writ and read again, While love is life, and life remain?While maids will heed, and men have tongue?
What followed then?
But let that pass.