ROBERT BROWNING
Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shame
Struck them tame; And that glory and that shame alike, the gold
Bought and sold.
VII
Now, the single little turret that remains
On the plains, By the caper overrooted, by the gourd
Overscorcd, While the patching houscleek's head of blossom winks
Through the chinks "
VIII
Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient time
Sprang sublime, And a burning ring, all round, the chaiiots traced
As they raced, And the monarch and his minions and his dames
Viewed the games.
IX
And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve
Smiles to leave To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece
In such peace, And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey
Melt away
x That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair
Waits me there In the turret whence the charioteers caught soul
For the goal, When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumb
Till I come.
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