Explore "The Moated Manse" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ I. And now once more we stood within the walls / Of her old manor near the riverside; / Dead leaves lay rotting in its empty halls, / And here and there the ivy could not hide / The year-old scars, made by the Royalists' balls, / Around the doorway, where so many died / In that last effort to defend the stair, / When Rupert, like a demon, entered there.
/ II. The basest Cavalier who yet wore spurs / Or drew a sword, I count him; with his grave / Eyes 'neath his plumed hat like a wolf's whom curs / Rouse, to their harm, within a forest cave; / And hair like harvest; and a voice like verse / For smoothness. Ay, a handsome man and brave! -- / Brave? -- who would question it! although 't is true / He warred with one weak woman and her few.