Classic Poem

Hadst thou but wist the bright
Way of my swift, sure feet,
Pauseless in noon and night,
Frost and heat,
Thou wert not fearful now my flash of steel to meet.

When like a new-lit star
Sprang thy soul from the mist,
On the brooding hills afar
— Hadst thou but wist! —
I waved my sword and sped to keep the battle-tryst.

What though on turf and moss
Soft was my footing set,
With cedar-shade across?
Didst forget?
No forest-waft went by without its thrill and threat.

Couldst thou retrace thy road,
Strife were better than palm.
More wouldst thou prize the goad
Than the balm,
Imperious stress of storm than citron-scented calm.

Still while, faithless of doom,
Revel was thine and sleep,
Over briar and bloom,
Smooth and steep,
On to our destined hour I swept as sea-winds sweep.

Lo! we are face to face,
And that face of thine is white.
Look not to me for grace,
Draw and smite,
Nor dare one prayer save this: May God defend the right!