What could he do, caught in that net of flowers,
With her frail body trembling out to him
Like vibrant wire strung to make music on?
How could he think of those beleagered towers
He had been set to capture, or that grim
Playground of kings where lights of battle shone?

For beauty had gone nakedly abroad
To make the sky a paradise of blue,
And summer's flowers secretly had stored
More than their share of liveliness and flew
Brave flags of colour where the sunlight poured.
How could he struggle to escape the snare,
With his rough fingers weary of the sword
And aching to move softly in her hair.

Was it a ringing bugle call that came
To rescue him, or some too fond caress
That stung his manhood to a blush of shame
At being subject to such tenderness?
For suddenly his breath catches to behold
A loophole where the traitor hedge discourses
How teeming pastures lie and smoking cities,
Cities to loot of all their darling gold;
Of plains where delicate hoofed fiery horses
Go sleek for capture, and of palaces
Where famous beauty and unrivalled wit is
And where the fairest queens delight the bold.
No smooth arms offered him could now avail
To call the soft look back into his eyes,
No kisses lured him but the kiss of steel,
And it was no fond whispers or low sighs
That lit his face and made his body thrill,
Man's loftier birthright summoned him to rise
The deathless spark that launches crazy ships
And drives men's sons to plough the lonely skies.
The answer was found eager on his lips.