Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 1 (October 1912-March 1913).djvu/98

POETRY: Then sprang his son to his side,
 * His lips with slaver were wet,

For he had felt how men died
 * And was lustful yet;

(On his bent helm a glove
 * Of the Duke's daughter,

In his eyes splendor of love
 * And slaughter)—

Shouting, "Father no more of mine!
 * "Shameful old man—abhorr'd,

"First traitor of all our line!"
 * Up the two-handed sword.

He smote—fell Sangar—and then
 * Screaming, red, the boy ran

Straight at the foe, and again
 * Hell began

Oh, there was joy in Heaven when Sangar came. Sweet Mary wept, and bathed and bound his wounds, And God the Father healed him of despair, And Jesus gripped his hand, and laughed and laughed John Reed