Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/53

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And day was closing as I paced Alone beside my tent; When suddenly upon my hand A bird sank down to rest,— The falcon,—but its head was droop'd,    And soil'd and stain'd its breast A light glanced through the trees: I knew His courser's snowy hide,— But that was dash'd with blood; one bound, And at my feet it died. I rush'd towards my sword,—alas, My arm hung in its sling; But, as to lead my venture, The falcon spread its wing. I met its large beseeching eye Turn'd to mine, as in prayer;