THEODORE ROBERTS
EYES that we look into—so,Hands that we kiss ere we go,Keep us,—remember us, hold us a night and a day;For the white road stretches ahead,And our spears have a vision of red,And our horses champ with their bits, and rear at the way.The tussocks of grass in the glareAre brown as a dream-maiden's hair,And over them, white in the sun, the spears of Kan-Mar;The curbs, and the froth at the lips—The bridle chains snapping like whips,And our plumes tossed red, and scenting the heels of war.The eyes that twinkle and burn—The wrists like elk-thongs that turnWith the balancing, pausing, slender, murderous spear;The swords that lead us along,The thrust, the shriek and the song—Sights not fit for their eyes, nor sounds for their ears to hear.The city gates in the sun,The glory of brave deeds done,The clatter of horning hoofs and the song of old Kan-Mar,The roar of the narrow streetFilled with clanging of feet—The white hands over the balconies, and the kiss on the burning scar!
EYES that we look into—so,Hands that we kiss ere we go,Keep us,—remember us, hold us a night and a day;For the white road stretches ahead,And our spears have a vision of red,And our horses champ with their bits, and rear at the way.The tussocks of grass in the glareAre brown as a dream-maiden's hair,And over them, white in the sun, the spears of Kan-Mar;The curbs, and the froth at the lips—The bridle chains snapping like whips,And our plumes tossed red, and scenting the heels of war.The eyes that twinkle and burn—The wrists like elk-thongs that turnWith the balancing, pausing, slender, murderous spear;The swords that lead us along,The thrust, the shriek and the song—Sights not fit for their eyes, nor sounds for their ears to hear.The city gates in the sun,The glory of brave deeds done,The clatter of horning hoofs and the song of old Kan-Mar,The roar of the narrow streetFilled with clanging of feet—The white hands over the balconies, and the kiss on the burning scar!
EYES that we look into—so,Hands that we kiss ere we go,Keep us,—remember us, hold us a night and a day;For the white road stretches ahead,And our spears have a vision of red,And our horses champ with their bits, and rear at the way.
EYES that we look into—so,
Hands that we kiss ere we go,
Keep us,—remember us, hold us a night and a day;
For the white road stretches ahead,
And our spears have a vision of red,
And our horses champ with their bits, and rear at the way.
The tussocks of grass in the glareAre brown as a dream-maiden's hair,And over them, white in the sun, the spears of Kan-Mar;The curbs, and the froth at the lips—The bridle chains snapping like whips,And our plumes tossed red, and scenting the heels of war.
The tussocks of grass in the glare
Are brown as a dream-maiden's hair,
And over them, white in the sun, the spears of Kan-Mar;
The curbs, and the froth at the lips—
The bridle chains snapping like whips,
And our plumes tossed red, and scenting the heels of war.
The eyes that twinkle and burn—The wrists like elk-thongs that turnWith the balancing, pausing, slender, murderous spear;The swords that lead us along,The thrust, the shriek and the song—Sights not fit for their eyes, nor sounds for their ears to hear.
The eyes that twinkle and burn—
The wrists like elk-thongs that turn
With the balancing, pausing, slender, murderous spear;
The swords that lead us along,
The thrust, the shriek and the song—
Sights not fit for their eyes, nor sounds for their ears to hear.
The city gates in the sun,The glory of brave deeds done,The clatter of horning hoofs and the song of old Kan-Mar,The roar of the narrow streetFilled with clanging of feet—The white hands over the balconies, and the kiss on the burning scar!
The city gates in the sun,
The glory of brave deeds done,
The clatter of horning hoofs and the song of old Kan-Mar,
The roar of the narrow street
Filled with clanging of feet—
The white hands over the balconies, and the kiss on the burning scar!