LOOKING DEATH IN THE FACE.
25
He 'll die with. A brave lad, and very like
His sister.
*****
So! just two hours have I lain
Freezing. That pale white star, which came and peered
Through the tent-opening, has passed on, to smile
Elsewhere, or lost herself i' the dark,—God knows.
Two hours nearer to dawn. The very hour,
The very hour and day, a year ago,
When we light-hearted and light-footed fools
Went jingling idle swords in waltz and reel,
And smiling in fair faces. How they 'd start,
Those dainty red and white soft faces kind,
If they could but behold my visage now,
Or his—or his—or some poor faces cold
We covered up with earth last noon.
—There sits
The laidly Thing I felt on our tent-door
Two hours back. It has sat and never stirred.
I cannot challenge it, or shoot it down,
Or grapple with it, as with that young Russ
Whom I killed yesterday. (What eyes he had!—
Great limpid eyes, and curling dark-red hair,—
A woman's picture hidden in his breast,—
I never liked this fighting hand to hand.)
No, it will not be met like flesh and blood,
This shapeless, voiceless, immaterial Thing,
His sister.
*****
So! just two hours have I lain
Freezing. That pale white star, which came and peered
Through the tent-opening, has passed on, to smile
Elsewhere, or lost herself i' the dark,—God knows.
Two hours nearer to dawn. The very hour,
The very hour and day, a year ago,
When we light-hearted and light-footed fools
Went jingling idle swords in waltz and reel,
And smiling in fair faces. How they 'd start,
Those dainty red and white soft faces kind,
If they could but behold my visage now,
Or his—or his—or some poor faces cold
We covered up with earth last noon.
—There sits
The laidly Thing I felt on our tent-door
Two hours back. It has sat and never stirred.
I cannot challenge it, or shoot it down,
Or grapple with it, as with that young Russ
Whom I killed yesterday. (What eyes he had!—
Great limpid eyes, and curling dark-red hair,—
A woman's picture hidden in his breast,—
I never liked this fighting hand to hand.)
No, it will not be met like flesh and blood,
This shapeless, voiceless, immaterial Thing,
