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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - Three Pictures Continued
Work rating: Low

The first, a woman, nobly limbed and fair,
 Standeth at sunset by a famed far sea.
 Red are her lips as Love`s own kisses were,
 Yet speak they never though they smile on me.
 An old knight, next, and arméd cap--à--pie,
 Watcheth the slaughtered clay that was his heir.
 The winding--sheet is not more white than he,
 Hath sat since dawn and hath not shed a tear.
 The third a tortured bull about to die
 In the arena. No proud infidel
 E`er laid his dripping spears more scornfully
 In Spanish dust; for he too, ere he fell,
 Hath slain a man. Ah Christ! That murderous eye
 Burneth athirst like the red pit of Hell.
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