III.

Oft have I followed one of these old women, One among others, when the falling sun Reddened the heavens with a crimson wound-- Pensive, apart, she rested on a bench To hear the brazen music of the band, Played by the soldiers in the public park To pour some courage into citizens' hearts, On golden eves when all the world revives. Proud and erect she drank the music in, The lively and the warlike call to arms; Her eyes blinked like an ancient eagle's eyes; Her forehead seemed to await the laurel crown!