IN the lone tent, waiting for victory, br She stands with eyes marred by the mists of pain, br Like some wan lily overdrenched with rain: br The clamorous clang of arms, the ensanguined sky, br War's ruin, and the wreck of chivalry, br To her proud soul no common fear can bring: br Bravely she tarrieth for her Lord the King, br Her soul a-flame with passionate ecstasy.