Page:Songs from Vagabondia (1897).djvu/62

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Spendthrift of joy, his childish heartDanced to their wild outlandish bars;Then supperless he laid him downThat night, and slept beneath the stars.

THE MARCHING MORROWS.

Now gird thee well for courage,My knight of twenty year,Against the marching morrowsThat fill the world with fear!
The flowers fade before them;The summer leaves the hill;Their trumpets range the morning,And those who hear grow still.
Like pillagers of harvest,Their fame is far abroad,As gray remorseless troopersThat plunder and maraud.
The dust is on their corselets;Their marching fills the world;With conquest after conquestTheir banners are unfurled.
They overthrow the battlesOf every lord of war,From world-dominioned citiesWipe out the names they bore.

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