It Has Never Been So Kingly

He is running a race with burning halls,

[through doors that press him close,

red-hot, over stairs that scorch him,

he breaks forth out of the raging pile.]

Upon his arms he carries the flag

like a white, insensible woman.

And he finds a horse, and it's like a cry:

away over all, passing everything by,

even his own men.

And then the flag comes to itself again,

and it has never been so kingly;

and now they all see it, [far ahead,

and know the shining, helmetless man

and know the flag]...

But, behold, it begins to glow,

flings itself out and grows wide and red...

Their flag is aflame in the enemy's [midst,

and they gallop after.]