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BRET HARTE 816 What the Bullet sang
OJOY of creation, To be!
rapture, to fly
And be free' Be the battle lost or won, Though its smoke shall hide the sun,
1 shall find my love the one
Born for me'
��I shall know him where he stands
All alone, With the power in his hands
Not o'erthrown; I shall know him by his face, , By his godlike front and grace; I shall hold him for a space
All my own!
��It is he O my love!
So bold' It is I all thy love
Foretold!
It is I O love, what bliss' Dost thou answer to my kiss ? O sweetheart! what is this
Lieth there so cold?
�� �