III.

A SONG OF FAILURE.

With green swords pointing to heaven, When the dawn flushed, glad to see, Like three gay knights in the garden Were flaunting the Fleurs-de-lis.

And the plumes of two were purple, The color of hope and pride, And the last was snowy-crested, As a maiden soul should ride.

But a wind from the west brought warning, And at noontide, a sound of power, We heard on the roofs loud-marching The steady feet of the shower.

And the sharp green swords were broken, When the dusk fell, sad to see, And low, ah low, were lying The plumes of the Fleurs-de-lis!