As feels a warrior at the morning drum,
Till came a sight supreme, arousing me:—
Two bright eyes only, sparkling in the light,
Where flush’d a face that flared, then hid itself
Behind a travelling hood, befleck’d with dust,
And fring’d with venturous locks of careless hair.
“I have them now!” it cried; and straight began
A tale, strain’d sweeter through those lips aglow
Than sunset music. Then, when all was told,
The name I heard was “Edith.”