HE lifted his hand to his plumed chapeau, He bowed to her beauty and rode away,— He through the glorious world to go, She in the lone little home to stay. Swift as a vision he passed the fields Where the wild rose blushed amid golden grain; She took up the weapons which woman wields When fain from herself she would hide her pain. Out in the thickest of noble strife He felt the rapture of conflict brave; And she, shut into her quiet life, Half deemed its narrowness like the grave. Yet, strange to say, when the war was past, And the knight came back wearing valor's stars, 'T was the lady who, wan and pale, at last Gave token of wounds which had left their scars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: THE PORTRAIT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE SAILOR TO HIS PARROT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE CHINESE NIGHTINGALE; A SONG IN CHINESE TAPESTRIES by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE LAY OF THE LOVELORN; PARODY OF TENNYSON'S 'LOCKSLEY HALL' by THEODORE MARTIN VILLANELLE: AU RETOUR DU PRINTEMPS by PHILIP SCHUYLER ALLEN THE BROWN GIANT by ALEXANDER ANDERSON |