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- IN days of ancient history
- Who were you? Tell me if you know.
- Between your kisses answer me
- To-night, Chicot.
- Were you a faun by Castaly
- Tracking Urania or Clió?
- Or a white boy in Arcady
- Astray, Chicot?
- Were you a satin-supple page
- Swinging a curtain to and fro,
- Chanting some impudent addage
- Of love, Chicot?
- Were you the subtlest cardinal
- That ever blessing did bestow?
- At Fontarabia did you fall,
- Fighting, Chicot?
- Or at some monarch' table set,
- Did the bells twink at wrist and toe?
- Were you at Brusquet or Dagonet,
- Or else, Chicot?
- Something you were of all of these,
- Wise, gay, serene--that hid below,
- More sad for all your subtleties,
- Something, Chicot.
- You brace your armor well tonight,--
- Too well for any blood to flow;
- You'd not betray in any fight
- A wound, Chicot!
- I think you would not flinch beneath
- Life's whips, but after every blow
- Stand up again, and set your teeth
- And smile, Chicot.
- Weariness waits on wariness,
- There's leaping flame beneath the snow--
- All sorts of things that none would guess
- Of you, Chicot!
- Are you a lover? No and yes!
- Are you a comrade? Yes and no!
- What are you? Neither more nor less
- Than just Chicot!
- Take what a passing poet sings
- Before to-morrow bids us go,
- In memory of--many things,
- And you, Chicot!
- Muriel Stuart
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