BRIGADIER.
Two men-at-arms came riding slowly
Adown the green path, smooth and clear;
One held the rank of sergeant lowly,
The other that of brigadier.
The brigadier cried, "Brave Pandore,
The weather's fine—no signs of rain."
"Brigadier," laughing cried Pandore,
"Brigadier, right you are again!"
"It is no easy matter, surely,
To guard the peasant in his cot,
To hold the cities so securely
That thieves break in and plunder not;
And yet the wife whom I adore,
In safety dwells where Love doth reign."
"Brigadier," laughing cried Pandore,
"Brigadier, right you are again!"
