Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/1022

 BRET HARTE 816 What the Bullet sang

OJOY of creation, To be!

rapture, to fly

And be free' Be the battle lost or won, Though its smoke shall hide the sun,

1 shall find my love the one

Born for me'

��I shall know him where he stands

All alone, With the power in his hands

Not o'erthrown; I shall know him by his face, , By his godlike front and grace; I shall hold him for a space

All my own!

��It is he O my love!

So bold' It is I all thy love

Foretold!

It is I O love, what bliss' Dost thou answer to my kiss ? O sweetheart! what is this

Lieth there so cold?

�� �