The Conqueror Poem by Anna Johnston MacManus

She lingered in the greening way–
The kine she tended by her side–
Her hair the swift brown hands untied,
And o'er her gown of humble gray
Fell waves of gold, so exquisite,
So bright, the darksome day was lit.

He had no heart for woman's wiles,
Strong was he, grave, and full of dreams
He came, her hair the sunshine seems,
Her shy, alluring, pleading smiles
Draw the world's beauty from all space,
Into one rose-red wistful face.

Then lo! a shaft of fire sprang high,
A royal, eloquent, white flame
In his calm heart that knew no name
To call the radiant vision by–
His soul stood trembling ere it flew
To greet her soul, awakened too.

He took her slender hand in his,
Yet laid no generous gifts therein,
Her lips she lifted for his kiss–
He dreamt no more of fights to win,
But captive, in Love's power, was raised,
To her height–whom his world dispraised.