Page:The Muse in Arms, Osborn (ed), 1917.djvu/221

Rh Right at the end the town's red light

And twilight glimmering into night.

The horses never slackened till

They reached the doorway and stood still.

Then came the knock, the unlading; then

The honey-sweet converse of men,

The splendid bath, the change of dress,

Then—oh the grandeur of their Mess,

The henchmen, the prim stewardess!

And oh the breaking of old ground,

The tales, after the port went round!

(The wondrous wiles of old Odysseus,

Old Agamemnon and his misuse

Of his command, and that young chit

Paris—who didn't care a bit

For Helen—only to annoy her

He did it really, )

But soon they led amidst the din

The honey-sweet in,

Whose eyes were blind, whose soul had sight,

Who knew the fame of men in fight—

Bard of white hair and trembling foot,

Who sang whatever God might put

Into his heart.

And there he sung,

Those war-worn veterans among,

Tales of great war and strong hearts wrung,

Of clash of arms, of council's brawl,

Of beauty that must early fall,