Classic Poem

I THRUST aside the crowding stars
That jangled loud as jays.
And the score of spears, that round my ears
Pointed me out my ways.

A pretty pass it was, to see,
Before their circle broke.
The bright air goes through my torn heart
And in and out my cloak.

And good it was, and light to go,
While such a press came by:
Tho' as I went, like one forspent,
I saw my body lie.

One backward look I flung to him,
And back he looked at me:
Nor ever stirred—nor spoke one word—
While I slipt out, scot-free!