Page:Poems of nature, Thoreau, 1895.djvu/69

Rh I see the routed foemen fly,

My bright spears fixèd are.

Give me an angel for a foe,

Fix now the place and time,

And straight to meet him I will go

Above the starry chime.

And with our clashing bucklers' clang

The heavenly spheres shall ring,

While bright the northern lights shall hang

Beside our tourneying.

And if she lose her champion true,

Tell Heaven not despair,

For I will be her champion new,

Her fame I will repair.