62
Tower of Ivory
And through the voices of the fields
A sweeter voice that said,
"It is the coward heart that yields
To dreams its heritage, nor wields
A sword unscabbarded."
Ah, voice that singeth bravely there,
Dost think that dreams are peace?
Dost think it cowardice to dare
Eternity of blind despair
For gold of fairy fleece?
