Explore "Barlasch of the Guard" by Henry Seton Merriman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Tho' he trip and fall / He shall not blind his soul with clay.
The days were short, and November was drawing to its end when Barlasch returned to Danzig. Already the frost, holding its own against a sun that seemed to linger in the North that year, exercised its sway almost to midday, and drew a mist from the level plains.