And burnished helmets their tempestuous lights:
Ominous fires of slaughter, flickering,
To flash out suddenly in angry flame.
“But, for a while, my house was filled with smiles;
And Love sate as a guest beside my hearth.
Each morning heard the horns call to the chase
The loud, glad music of the eager hounds,
While huntsmen cheered them onward, and the rides
Through woodlands, down the shadow-dappled ways,
Woke, in the answering April of my youth,