Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/92

 HE shadow of a poplar tree
 * Lay in that lake of sun,

As I with my little sword went in —
 * Against a thousand, one.

Haughty and infinitely armed,
 * Insolent in their wrath,

Plumed high with purple plumes they held
 * The narrow meadow path.

The air was sultry; all was still;
 * The sun like flashing glass;

And snip-snap my light-whispering steel
 * In arcs of light did pass.

Lightly and dull fell each proud head,
 * Spiked keen without avail,

Till swam my uncontented blade
 * With ichor green and pale.