Fancy Dress

by
 Some Brave, awake in you to-night, 
Knocked at your heart: an eagle’s flight 
Stirred in the feather on your head.
Your wide-set Indian eyes, alight Above high cheek-bones smeared with red, Unveiled cragg’d centuries, and led You, the snared wraith of bygone things— Wild ancestries of trackless Kings— Out of the past .
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So men have felt Strange anger move them as they knelt Praying to gods serenely starred In heavens where tomahawks are barred.

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