Classic Poem

Two maids uprose in the shimmering light
Of the clanging battle-morn;
And one was tressed like the bird of night,
And one like the ripening corn.

Then out spoke she with the raven locks,
And her dark eyes glowed like wine: —
" If he slay the foe, the knight I know,
He shall win this heart of mine!"

But softlier she of the yellow hair,
And her blue eyes 'gan to fill:
" Though he gain or lose, the man I choose,
He shall be my true love still!"