Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/235

Rh

when the king went forth to arms, Trumpets played him shrill alarms; Trumpets played with golden throats, Triumph, gladness in their notes.

But when Tom went out to battle, Clear-eyed springs began to prattle; Murmured, too, the fields of grain Words of anguish, words of pain.

Bullets hiss amid the fight, And the folk like sheaves are mown; While the kings most stoutly fight, Peaeants heap on heap are thrown.

Loud eagles round the banner fly, Where the village crosses swing. Tom is wounded,—left to die, But unscathed returns the king.

And when through gleaming gates he rode, Golden dawning yonder glowed; Bells set chiming far and wide On the sunny country-side.

And when the peasant's pit was made, Rustled trees in distant glade, Chimes came through the oak-grove stealing Of blue-bells and of lilies pealing.