And dose will I worship each morning and night.”
“Nay, nay![884] poor Dolores, I am but a man,
A surgeon, who binds up, with what skill he can,
The wounds of this heart-breaking man.
“See, build me no shrines, but take this small book,[885]
And teach the brown baby to read.”
He is gone, and Dolores is left on the shore,
She watches the boat[886] till she sees it no more,
She hears[887] the quick musketry all through the night,
She holds fast the book in her pine knot’s red light,