And seem'd to fight with thought.
At last,
As if the final die was cast,
And cast as carelessly as one
Would toss a white coin in the sun,
He touch'd his rein once more, and then
His pistol laid with idle heed
Prone down the toss'd mane of his steed,
And he rode down the rugged way
Tow'rd where the wide, white desert lay,