"Then, after all was done that hand could do,
She rested, and her desolation came
Upon her, and she wept beside the way."
"Seam'd with an ancient sword-cut on the cheek,
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes
And loved him, with that love which was her doom."
"And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees
And poplars made a noise of falling showers."
"No greatness, save it be some far-off touch
Of greatness to know well I am not great."
"Hurt in the side, whereat she caught her breath;
Through her own side she felt the sharp lance go."
"Rankled in him and ruffled all his heart,
As the sharp wind that ruffles all day long
A little bitter pool about a stone
On the bare coast."
"Thy shadow still would glide from room to room,
And I should evermore be vext with thee
In hanging robe or vacant ornament,
Or ghostly footfall echoing on the stair."
"Far off a solitary trumpet blew.
Then, waiting by the doors, the war-horse neigh'd
As at a friend's voice, and he spake again."
"Through the thick night I hear the trumpet blow."
"And slipt aside, and like a wounded life
Crept down into the hollows of the wood."