XLIII.
She felt the scimitar gleam down, And met it from beneath With smile more bright in victory Than any sword from sheath,-- Which flashed across her lip serene, Most like the spirit-light between The darks of life and death.
She felt the scimitar gleam down, And met it from beneath With smile more bright in victory Than any sword from sheath,-- Which flashed across her lip serene, Most like the spirit-light between The darks of life and death.