LIFE
XXXIV
WHO never lost, are unpreparedA coronet to find;Who never thirsted, flagonsAnd cooling tamarind.
Who never climbed the weary league—Can such a foot exploreThe purple territoriesOn Pizarro’s shore?
How many legions overcome?The emperor will say.How many colors takenOn Revolution Day?
How many bullets bearest?The royal scar hast thou?Angels, write “Promoted”On this soldier’s brow!
XXXV
I CAN wade grief,Whole pools of it,—I’m used to that.But the least push of joyBreaks up my feet,And I tip—drunken.Let no pebble smile,’T was the new liquor,—That was all!
[21]
