1] In the lone tent, waiting for victory,
2] She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain,
3] Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain:
4] The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky,
5] War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry,
6] To her proud soul no common fear can bring:
7] Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King,
8] Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy.
O Hair of Gold! O Crimson Lips! O Face
Made for the luring and the love of man!
With thee I do forget the toil and stress,
The loveless road that knows no resting place,
Time's straitened pulse, the soul's dread weariness,
My freedom and my life republican!